


Lease

by Kai_Heartnet



Series: Tragedies and Turning Points [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - RENT, Angst and Humor, But then there's rehab, Candles used to flirt, Character Death isn't for a while, Drug Addiction, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gotham Police are the Worst Police, Joining the stars..., M/M, Past Character Death, Some OOC, kinda??, starving artists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:26:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5136338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kai_Heartnet/pseuds/Kai_Heartnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gotham is a city made for those who either learn to keep going or those who lose themselves.<br/>---<br/>Dick Grayson is- or was- a musician known for his lovely voice and soulful lyrics. He was quickly rising in fame before an incident caused him to turn away from the spotlight. Now he shares an apartment with his best friend Tim Drake as they attempt to simply <em>exist</em> in the city known for eating people alive.</p><p>(A somewhat more modern take of RENT. If you haven't seen it, grab some tissues and settle in for the long haul.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. RENT

**Author's Note:**

> Ages in this:
> 
> Bruce-39  
> Dick-26  
> Roy-26  
> Kori-25  
> Jason-24  
> Cass-23  
> Stephanie-22  
> Tim-21  
> Damian-17

Gotham was alive with the kind of energy that could only be felt by those who spent most their time on its streets in the worst kind of ways. The city breathed the dreams of the starving artist and crushed them in the exhale. It was unlike any other place on Earth, and it was probably why all those who dreamed of becoming _something_ risked becoming nothing on its streets every night.

Tim was a nothing, but he didn't mind. He was able to hold his head up high even when he had his legs knocked from under him on an almost daily basis. Today, it was because of another rejection.

He was told his documentaries were too gritty. No one wanted to see orphans during a recession. It was all glitter and painted up models, false words and practiced smiles. Tim's view was out-dated and morbid, and no one wanted to be tied to the guy that reminded them just how bad life could be.

In Tim's defense, he had been on the side of the fake long enough to know he could never make a film of it.

His parents had been rich business-people who had made it their business to know everyone else's business. They owned hundreds of newspapers and gossip blogs that talked on a range of things that most of the wealthy would prefer remain unknown. The latest had been the fall of Bruce Wayne's ward Dick Grayson. Though Bruce Wayne had managed to keep more of the darker details of the incident from escaping to the press, the parts that couldn't be hidden were blown up and shouted out for the entire world to hear. Everyone knew him now as a bird with a broken wing.

Tim had been disgusted at what his parents had allowed to be done, and had left home to make his own way in the media business. Consequently, that path led him to the fallen bird Dick Grayson himself. Through a lot of insults and an eventual fist fight, the two became best friends and even roommates.

It was to Dick that Tim reported his latest failure. Their apartment was cold and dark, and they could see their breath fogging up around them.

"Too gritty?" Dick grinned as he balled up an old poster from "glory days." He tossed it in the giant metal trash can that he had pulled in earlier that day when he first realized their heat had gone off.

"Still can't find that chord?" Tim asked instead, returning the grin. He pulled out the film from his camera- he was purist, okay?- and tossed it in the bin as well. He started ripping up old screenplays that had been rejected ages ago that he hadn't been able to let go of. Now? He was cold and bitter, and he really didn't care if the world watched his movie about a caped crusader who fought crime within his city. Let it burn.

Dick had been a wonderful musician, known throughout the country for his voice and his raw lyrics. For some reason, he had had some kind of breakdown or something- not even Tim's parents could figure out the actual incident- and he had lost the ability to write music. Dick never talked about it, not even to Tim. It was the biggest secret in Gotham, and what people would pay to know would probably pay their bills for years. The only time their phone rang was either from Tim's parents who were not-so-subtly trying to convince him to come home and people offering Dick book deals. On good days, they ignored them. On bad days, they often had to remind each other that they weren't sell-outs.

Their phone rang, and Tim wondered if he could cause it with a thought now.

Dick answered it because Tim was too busy trying to end the call with his mind.

"What took you so long?"

Roy Harper's voice was a surprise. He had also been a roommate of theirs when they were first trying to live on their own. Roy had been the only one with any kind of street sense, and he had kept Dick and Tim from being mugged on a regular basis among other things. He was a literal genius, and had eventually left Gotham for a job in his hometown of Starling. They hadn't really stayed in touch after that, but when someone saves you from dying in an alleyway, you stay close regardless.

"Where are you?" Dick smiled, and it was almost natural.

"Downstairs. Through me the keys! Or do you want me to freeze out here?" Roy laughed into the phone.

"It's not much better up here," Dick admitted before hanging up and grabbing the spare keys. He ran to the fire escape and saw Roy's red hair before he actually spotted his friend waving at him several stories down. Dick kissed the keys for luck and tossed them down before heading back inside to where Tim was still ripping up old screenplays.

"Why is it so _cold_?" Dick groaned as he lit their failures for warmth. "Last year wasn't this cold."

"Last year you didn't have holes in your clothes," Tim reminded him as he rubbed his hands together. "I thought you and Damian had come to some agreement about this year's rent."

"We _had_ ," Dick glared into the flames as he heard the familiar roar of his younger brother's car on their street. It was quickly drowned out by the other tenants' sounds of anger and outrage. He _would_ have felt defensive, but the brother they were booing and cursing was the same person that had them freezing now. "Let's ask him about it."

"We have a roaring fire in the middle of our living room. We can't just leave it," Tim stated. Another life lesson from Roy Harper.

Dick smirked before gesturing for Tim to help him lift it.

* * *

Jason thrived on the decadence of Gotham. The city's rotting beauty was part of its charm just as it was Jason's. He knew how to be exactly what he needed to be to survive. And tonight, he needed to be a voice.

The entire neighborhood was in an uproar over the sudden loss of heat and power. It was _Christmas Eve_. The least the landowner could have done was given everyone until after the holidays. Even Jason wasn't _that_ heartless.

He looked out towards his balcony and saw a large fireball quickly falling down. Shocked and a little curious, he ran out to see who threw it and what it would land on. When he looked up, he thought he saw an angel.

Jason was pretty friendly to everyone who weren't complete morons, and he knew just about everyone in Gotham thanks to his job. Despite that, he had never met his upstairs neighbors before, and he realized what a grave mistake that was.

Blue eyes were illuminated by the small flames that remained in the can he and his roommate had just dumped. The shadows played vicious tricks with his smile, and it took Jason an inappropriately long amount of time to realize he had joined in with the others leaning out of their apartments to yell at the person who had just parked on their street. The fireball had barely missed his glossy car, and even Jason felt a small wave of anger at the blatant display of _wealth_ that the car represented. When Jason looked back up, the man with blue eyes and a shadowed smile was gone.

* * *

Roy didn't miss Gotham City. It was the place that had chewed him up and nearly swallowed him whole. And still he returned.

He didn't know why. Yes, he had failed in Starling, too, but Gotham called him back like a crazy ex. And Roy was the stupid idiot that kept coming back.

Gripping the keys that Dick had thrown him, he took a step towards the place that he had called home for so many years. Maybe it was the determination to spend his time in Gotham differently this time, or maybe it was the sudden swarm of emotions that came with returning to such a place, but Roy didn't notice the group around him until they had already blocked his way forward. There were three of them, and Roy cursed himself for being so _stupid_. He had been the one to warn Dick and Tim about such situations.

"Got a light?" the middle one asked, and Roy took a subtle step backwards.

"I don't smoke," Roy smiled.

At the same time, the leader shouted, "Get 'im!" and Roy was running down alleyways and jumping over garbage cans.

He felt himself going down long before his brain registered that he had tripped. He swore as he collided with hard concrete. Seconds later, the group was on him, ripping off his jacket and sending punches and kicks wherever they could.

Roy didn't miss Gotham City.


	2. Sewer Rats and Candlelight

Damian Wayne was never one for arbitrary greetings. Today was no different as he stepped closer to one of the apartment buildings to avoid several burning eviction notices. If he had expected a different response, his expression didn't reveal it.

"What the _hell_?" he heard from the nearby doorway.

"Hello, Grayson," Damian greeted without turning his attention away from making sure he didn't get burned. These people had to be breaking some kind of law, but he couldn't call the police and risk Dick getting arrested as well. Despite his recent actions, he did love his adopted brother.

"You could have called," Tim stated as he exited the doorway.

"Drake."

To Damian, Tim Drake was nothing more than a hindrance. It was because of him that Dick hadn't found his way home already. It was normal for musicians like Dick to take a hiatus, to get their heads straight, before returning to where they belonged. Dick belonged in the spotlight, high above fans screaming his name. He _did not_ belong in an apartment closer to the gutter than the rats that crawled through it, nor did he belong around people that could kill him without a second thought. Dick belonged _home_ with Damian and their father where they could work out whatever had brought him down so low.

"Merry Christmas," Damian added despite himself. One look at Dick reminded him of why he was there and the phrase just slipped out. He looked bad.

Okay, Dick looked a lot better than Damian had thought he would when he had stopped accepting the money their father had sent every month. He had expected visible ribs and hollow cheeks, and he had expected him to be covered in grime. With the exception of a few frayed and torn areas, physically Dick looked fine.

But Damian had come to recognize the look in those eyes. They were devoid of the bright glow that everyone who had known Dick were used to. Now they were just as cold as he seemed to be.

"'Merry Christmas?'" Dick scoffed, an incredulous smile on his face. "You cut off our heat in the middle of winter!"

"You haven't paid your rent in a year, Grayson," Damian reminded him.

"Because you said we didn't have to!"

Damian nodded.

"I did, but that was before Father married Mother and Grandfather found out about all _this_ ," Damian gestured towards the whole of the neighborhood. "He thinks the space would be put to better use if it was transformed into office buildings for his group."

"Your grandfather is a mob boss and his 'group' is a bunch of crazy assassins," Tim glared. He leaned against Damian's new car and hoped he smeared something.

"And I'm his grandson, Drake. Remember that when you think to open your mouth again."

Tim was unimpressed.

"You can't wipe out an entire block and expect everyone to just _accept_ that," Dick gaped. "What does Bruce think about all this?"

"Father doesn't know about it. He signed over all of this to me before he and Mother left on their honeymoon."

"And you're just going to be your grandfather's pawn?" Dick questioned.

"I'm his legacy, Grayson. I don't expect you to understand."

Dick didn't buy it. He _knew_ Damian. Yes, the kid was stubborn as hell and vicious as a snake on his best day, but his word meant everything to him. There was no way he would break it because of some _legacy_.

"It's two minutes from Christmas, Damian," Tim informed.

"You can't possibly suggest I gain some 'Christmas cheer,'" Damian sneered.

"How about some 'brotherly love' then?" Dick smirked as he sat on the hood of Damian's car. The fiery paper had finally stopped flying, and the shouts had begun to die down, making it safer to do so.

Damian looked conflicted, something he would never admit later. He was the pillar of perfection, and he stood to inherit the weight of both sides of his families. He couldn't be known to show weakness, even to someone he held in such close regards as Dick. If anyone asked, the words he spoke next never happened.

"December 31st."

"What?" Dick and Tim asked together.

"That's how long you will have."

And with that, Damian shooed the two off his car and left.

"Is this proof he has a soul?" Tim asked as they made their way back to their apartment.

"It's proof of something," Dick replied instead.

When they slid open the door to their apartment, they felt the instant rush of heat, though everything was still shrouded in darkness. Tim was elated.

"I'm going to go look for Roy while miracles still seem to be happening. Do you want to come, too?"

Dick gave a half-smile that he didn't really feel as he began lighting candles.

"No thanks. I'm gonna..." He gestured towards his old guitar that sat on their couch almost mockingly. "...I don't know."

"We can grab something to eat while we're out," Tim offered, and Dick gave a self-depricating laugh.

"With what money? We're practically running on fumes, Timmy."

Tim sighed and left to find their ex-roommate.

Dick picked up his guitar and tried to pull a song out of him that he knew didn't exist. He walked over to the balcony, hoping to get inspiration from literally anything. Instead, all he got was a cloudy sky and empty streets, and not for the first time he had to ask himself what he was doing there.

He wasn't rebelling like Tim. He had been pretty happy at the manor with Bruce and Alfred, even Damian was astonishingly patient with him as he went through...this. Through broken strings and long nights filled with nothing more than heavy sobbing. Dick was lying if he said he didn't know the reason he couldn't write anymore. He knew what he was missing.

Before everything broke apart and he couldn't find the pieces any more, there had been Barbara Gordon.

If Dick was a good musician before, Barbara turned him into something _amazing_. Nothing was hard with her. She came to every show, and she didn't get jealous when some of his female fans became a little more eager than was necessary. She even took his short journey into drugs pretty well, and she yanked him out of it faster than he would have ever done on his own. She had been everything he needed, and one stray bullet had taken her away from him.

It wasn't at a concert where there were usually hundreds of bodyguards, and it wasn't at the manor where the security system was impenetrable. It was on the street where they were completely open. It had happened mere _seconds_ after Dick had proposed and Barbara had said yes. In one second, his life had gone from perfect to destroyed.

And the worst part of it all was that they had never found the shooter. It had been night and Dick couldn't ID him, and the trail had gone cold weeks later.

After that, Dick couldn't do concerts.

He stopped showing up to rehearsals and attending album releases. Despite Bruce shielding him from most of the outrage from his sudden disappearance from the limelight, Dick had caught enough of it to know that no one was happy about it. And people-pleaser Dick Grayson couldn't care less about it.

Bruce encouraged him to see a psychiatrist, which he had for a while. But no amount of talking could fill the whole that was left by Barbara, and Dick stopped showing up there as well. Eventually, he had to leave the manor, and that's when he met Roy and Tim who had their own tragic backstories to carry.

Dick had given up trying to write anything and headed back into the apartment when he heard a knock on their door.

It took him a moment to realize it must have been Tim. Despite all the time they had lived in their apartment, Tim still managed to leave his keys and wallet on an almost regular basis. It was kind of endearing, and Dick smiled as he opened the door.

* * *

"What did you forget this time?" the blue-eyed stranger smiled before he realized it wasn't his roommate on the other side of the door. Jason wasn't deterred.

"You wouldn't happen to have a light, would you?" he smiled brightly.

The man stared at Jason for several heartbeats before nodding and allowing him to come in.

"Um...Sorry for...this," he gestured towards the apartment and himself as a whole. "I wasn't really expecting company."

The apartment looked sparse even illuminated by candlelight. Still, it was twice as big as Jason's, and he certainly didn't judge.

"You said you needed a light?" he asked, snapping Jason's attention back to him.

Jason held up the candle he had remembered to bring as an excuse to meet his neighbor. He supposed he could have brought cookies or something, but the day's events didn't really call for it. Jason's attention was drawn to those impossibly blue eyes again, and he found himself staring longer than what should have been accepted. When the man spoke, Jason expected him to make some awkward comment about it.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked instead, leaning in to light Jason's candle with a match he pulled from seemingly nowhere. Their hands brushed and his neighbor pulled his back quickly. "You're freezing."

Jason smirked before walking around the apartment a little more and subtly blowing the candle out.

"It's nothing, really. They turned off the heat and- would you mind giving me another light? The candle seems to have blown out."

This time it was the neighbor who was staring at Jason, and he guessed it was probably because he had been found out.

"What are you looking at?" Jason asked carefully.

"You...You're hair in the moonlight," his neighbor replied, and he'd be lying if Jason said that he didn't blush at that. His gaze fell to the guitar in the man's hands and a new realization crossed his mind.

"You're a musician?"

"Something like that," he smiled cryptically. "You really look familiar..."

They had become close again, and Jason pretended to trip into his neighbor's arms.

"Sorry," Jason smiled up at him. "Guess I'm a little weak on my feet tonight."

The man seemed actually stunned, and Jason had to question it.

"What?"

"It's just...your smile reminded me of-"

"-I'm always reminding people of," Jason sighed as he stood. "Who is he?"

"She, actually," he admitted somberly. "She died...Her name was Barbara."

Jason decided to give this one up to a lost cause, and held his candle up once more to be lit.

"Sorry about your friend...Got a light?"

He gave Jason a fraction of a smirk that told him that maybe it wasn't. He lit the candle again, but remained close. It wasn't until the candle had burned down enough to drip wax on him that Jason even remembered that it was burning between them. He gave a low hiss that seemed to break his neighbor out of his daze as well.

"The wax," he stated as if it were the greatest secret to be revealed for thousands of lifetimes. Jason laughed.

"The wax."

"Well...goodnight," his neighbor nodded and Jason smiled as he headed towards the door.

As he blew the candle out again, he realized he had dropped something far too important- and expensive- to leave.

"Did it blow out again?" his neighbor asked, and Jason didn't miss the amusement in his voice.

"No...I think that I dropped-" Jason's eyes met those of his curious neighbor and he altered his sentence a bit, "-my stash."

"'Stash?'" his neighbor questioned as Jason began combing the floor for the small plastic bag. "I swear I've seen you somewhere. You know, when I used to actually go outside."

Jason sighed as he got on his knees to look. He could sense more than see those blue eyes trained on him.

"You know, I've been told I have a pretty sweet ass. Nothing compared to yours, of course," Jason flirted. "What do you think?"

They were both surprised how innocent Jason's voice came out with the question, but his neighbor wouldn't be distracted.

"I _know_ I know you from somewhere. Besides apparently living in the same complex."

Jason sighed, giving up looking with just the few candles scattered around the room.

"And besides looking like your dead girlfriend?" Jason asked, raising a brow.

His neighbor shook his head. "You have the same smile, but I swear I've seen you somewhere else."

"I work at that gay bar on 5th and Main," he offered, though he doubted that's what the man was recalling.

He was pleasantly surprised when his neighbor snapped his fingers.

"That's it! You're a dancer, right?"

Jason smirked.

"On some days. You wouldn't happen to have a light would you...?"

"Dick. My name's Dick," he offered as he checked his pockets. "That was my last match."

"Jason," he smiled as he stood. He supposed he could forget the high he was planning on for tonight. This was just as good.

* * *

Kori wasn't terribly attached to Gotham. It was a great city in terms of clients and friendly faces, but it wasn't her home.

She came from a country most hadn't even heard of years ago on some diplomatic mission with her parents. America had been a culture shock initially, but Kori had liked it. There were so many different kinds of _people_ , something that she didn't see much of back home. Everyone from where she was from was so intimidated by the fact that she was a princess that she was always so isolated. That hadn't been the case for a long time.

There had been an assassin, sent by who was anyone's guess, and her parents had been killed right in front of her. She ran away from it all. Unsure if the assassin had been sent by an enemy or someone from her own country, she couldn't trust any kind of government.

She had traveled for a while, unsure of where to go and who to rely on. She had been so young when her parents were killed, and since had seen her fair share of the evil that people were capable of. She had also seen the good, and that was what she chose to hold on to for the sake of her sanity and for the hope that she would one day be able to return to her home country.

Eventually, she had made her way to Gotham. It hadn't been any form of a decision, and she had more found herself resting there than actually putting down roots. She made money all kinds of ways, and always she reminded herself that it was better to live another day than to wallow in what she deserved or didn't. That mantra kept her heart light and her stomach full, and she had no regrets.

It was on the streets of Gotham that she found a man who had certainly seen his fair share of the bad, as well.

He was bloody and bruised, and yet he still looked impressively together. He spotted her almost as soon as she had noticed him.

"Great. Are you gonna beat me up, too?" he spat. His voice sounded more tired than pained, and Kori saw that as a good sign.

"It looks like whoever came before me were pretty thorough. I can clean you up if you want, though."

He stared at her skeptically for a moment before he shrugged.

"Harper. Roy Harper."

"Nice to meet you," she beamed at him. "I'm Kori."


	3. Love Today and Regret It Tomorrow

The next morning found Dick staring at what was probably the most ridiculous brunch invitation he had ever seen. It was written on the glass of their balcony window in the fog, and he was a little surprised it hadn't faded by the time he had woken up. It was simple enough: Xmas Brunch? There was even a cute little arrow pointing downwards, and Dick didn't have to guess who had left it.

Tim did.

"Is that what I think that is?" he asked, squinting as if changing his view would change the words written on the window.

Dick shrugged as casually as he could, but he couldn't stop the grin from creeping across his face.

"I met our downstairs neighbor last night. I must have made a good impression."

"Must have," Tim smirked before jumping when their front door burst open.

" _Merry Christmas_!" Roy shouted as if he were trying to wish aliens in space good wishes as well. His ex-roommates flinched from the volume, but smiled at the reunion.

"What _happened_ to you last night?" Tim laughed as he took Roy in.

The red-head was wearing a fluffy Santa Claus hat and not nearly enough layers to survive a Gotham winter. He carried a plastic bucket from where he pulled several plastic cups and a bottle of the same whiskey they had drank to celebrate Roy's new move.

Instead of giving an answer, Roy simply tossed Tim the keys.

"Gentlemen, I have found my heaven," Roy beamed at them both.

"Is Starling City that great?" Dick laughed at his friend's enthusiasm. Roy shook his head.

"First, it's called Star City now. Some big branding move or whatever. Second, no. I was kicked out of the city for my theories on the explosive nature of pompous socialites and their effect on the lower classes."

"And they let you into Gotham with that?" Tim asked, taking a careful sip from the too-full cup he had poured him.

"'Let' is such an umbrella word, Tim. I prefer 'blackmailed the mayor' myself."

"Is that how you could afford this?" Dick asked. Even though the whiskey wasn't Wayne-standard, it certainly wasn't cheap either.

Roy's smile could have melted his glass.

"Oh, no. This comes from my heaven."

"You're 'heaven?'" Dick finally asked, and he finally noticed someone else standing at their door.

"Boys, I introduce to you the newest member of our motley crew! Princess Kori in the flesh!"

Kori wore a Mrs. Claus suit with heels that should have been impossible to walk in. She glided into the room effortlessly, a large smile on her face as well.

"Nice to meet you! Roy has told me so much about you both!"

"Really?" Dick asked the same time Tim replied with, "Oh no."

"Good things, mostly," she laughed. She pointed at Tim. "He told me that you're a film-maker. I would love to see one of your works sometime."

"So would the rest of us," Roy complained lightly. "Timmy keeps everything so close to his vest, it's all knitted in."

Kori pointed at Dick. "And you're the musician, aren't you? I think I've seen you perform before..."

Because she had the grace not to ask him to perform for her now, Dick figured Roy had told her about that, too.

"How did you two meet?" Dick asked to keep there from being an awkward silence. It _was_ awkward to have their ex-roommate bring someone into their apartment and claim that she was his "heaven" of all things.

To this, Kori's smile became even brighter.

"I found him lying in an alley after he'd been mugged."

The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was _golden_. And then it was immediately filled with laughter.

"Mister Roy _No, Tim, you can't wear that color shirt at night because you'll stick out too much_ Harper got mugged?" Tim laughed.

"Mister Roy _Dick, the only way you won't get attacked looking like that is if their blind_ Harper?" Dick joined in.

Roy's bright mood disintegrated at their words, but Kori's continued to shine.

"Will you two have lunch with us today?" she asked.

Tim declined, informing her that they didn't really have any money. Kori pulled out a wad of cash. It had to be at least a grand.

"It can be on me."

"You earned that on the street?" Tim gaped.

"I lucked out. This old lady in a limo pulled up yesterday while I was trying to earn some cash by drumming, and she fans the bills out to call me over. Then she says, 'Darling, I need your help with a matter. My neighbor has this big brute of a dog that _will not_ stop barking. I haven't had a proper night's rest in a _year_!' She points at my sticks and adds another five hundred before continuing with it! She says, 'I believe if you play nonstop, it will at least get a taste of its own medicine.'"

"And she just gave you that much cash to play over a dog barking?" Dick asked.

" _Well_ ," Kori and Roy said together, stretching the word out. It was the first time Kori's smile had faltered, and that more than anything raised the others' interest.

"I was maybe twenty minutes in, and I guess the owners left their top floor window open. The dog jumped out the window and had a not-so-gentle landing into their swimming pool. The old lady paid me double for...the theatrics."

"Is it dead?" Dick couldn't help but ask. He couldn't help it, he was an animal person. He blamed all those years playing with Damian's dog, Titus.

"Their butler was taking it to the vet when I left. It looked like it wasn't too hurt though," Kori offered. "So, lunch?"

"Well, _someone_ has a brunch date their late for," Roy noted as he saw the window.

"Dick made a _good impression_ ," Tim laughed just as the phone rang. Tim regretted answering the moment the caller spoke.

"Tim?"

Stephanie Brown was the muse Tim never forgot. She had inspired in more than just film, but he had always known that what they hadn't wouldn't last. Stephanie was like fireworks- something you could only enjoy from the right distance. Tim had messed it up by trying to get too close, and he had gotten burned. In the end, she had dumped him for a criminal justice major named Cassandra, and Tim was left to watch it all from behind a lens.

"Yeah..." was all he managed to get out.

"Great!" Steph let out a long sigh. "I am so glad I caught you. You know I'm having a protest about the recent sudden evictions, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, something's wrong with my equipment and it's really not Cass' forte, and I remembered you were great at this sort of thing."

"Yeah..."

"So could you come down to the old abandoned lot on Avenue B and see what you can do?"

"Yeah..."

"Thanks, Tim!" Steph gave a relieved laugh. She hung up.

"Yeah..."

The rest of the room had watched the phone call take place one-sided, but Roy and Dick didn't have to hear her to know who it was.

"You okay, bud?" Dick asked carefully.

"Yeah..."

"Are you going to go help Steph?" Roy asked next.

"Yeah..."

"Okay, this is getting creepy," Kori admitted, and that seemed to snap Tim out of it.

"What did I just agree to? What did you just let me agree to?" Tim groaned even as he was pulling on his coat and grabbing his camera.

"Don't put this on us," Roy grinned. "So, Dick. Will you go out to lunch with us, or will you be 'occupied' with something else?" He gestured towards the invitation that was finally beginning to fade.

"You know what they say," Dick shrugged. "Three's a crowd and all."

Roy scoffed but left when Tim did.

Dick decided not to go to brunch.


	4. Tango

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late update! I went to a wedding and pretended I knew what I was supposed to do. (Wedding people are scary...) But I'm here now! Thanks for the comment mstheresa, and thanks for the kudos from readers as well!

Tim hadn't expected much. Stephanie had always been like a dangling carrot, a motivation without an actual reward. As he entered the abandoned lot where her protest would be held tomorrow before the Christmas cheer could really die down, he knew the dangling carrot for what it was. What he didn't know is what Cassandra Cain was doing there.

If Steph was the carrot, Tim considered Cass the machine he was running on. Something he could hate even though he knew he had gotten onto the ride himself. He didn't even actually hate Cass. He didn't, and the reason was because she fell into either one of two categories.

She could be like him: someone who had fallen into the whirlwind that was Stephanie Brown. Someone who had become used to the crippling winds and the ever-changing lifestyle, and someone who no longer noticed when the weather was becoming cloudy.

Or she could be something new: someone who could tame the wind and bring Stephanie into their own wind.

The second was very unlikely, and Tim had never witnessed more than one a decade. He had known Stephanie since she punched him in the face when he was five at a park. He didn't know _why_ she had punched him, and she never gave a reason to this day, but they had been friends ever since. It had been Tim's fault that it had escalated further than that, and he supposed it was equally his fault that they had crashed and burned. But before there had been romance and before there had been heartbreak between them, there had been the kind of friendship that led to having people like Stephanie Brown as your best man for your wedding. Tim ignored the irony that he could always picture Steph as his best man, but never as the bride he would always want to make his.

To Cass' credit, she didn't hate Tim either. He was the best friend, the ex, the _what-if_ that was always on her girlfriend's mind when she wished it was just her. It wasn't hate that Cass felt, but she would be lying if she said that it wasn't envy. Tim had found something with Steph that Cass was still searching for. He knew her in a way that Cass was still clueless about. And it was those facts and not Tim himself, that Cass hated. It was never said; however, that her glare couldn't say otherwise.

"She wasn't supposed to call _you_ ," Cass stated colder than the weather outside.

Tim recognized that tone, and it spoke volumes that he welcomed it more than the awkward silence that could have filled that space instead. He could listen to Cass lash out at him. He could deal with any form of possessiveness that she held. Part of him thought that it was nice that she saw him as any kind of threat towards what she had with Steph now, but another part of him knew that even without Cass, he and Steph would never be together _that_ way again.

"Well... Can I help anyway?" Tim smiled kindly.

His entire walk there, he had run through his mind the awkward greetings he would deliver to Steph. He had spoken years of conversation in his head, and he had been prepared to get out anything that could ruin their friendship long before he faced her. He had rehearsed the way he would joke from behind wires and how her laugh would echo through the newly patched microphone, and how everything would be okay afterwards. But Steph wasn't there, and he didn't really know how to talk to Cass.

"An engineer's on his way," she replied crisply.

"Oh...okay," Tim nodded and began to walk away. He supposed that it was better that way. He couldn't fathom what he and Cass could talk about.

"He's...two hours late," Cass admitted before Tim could escape the building.

He bit his lip. He couldn't leave them like this, even if his reason for being there _wasn't_ there. He turned and made his way towards the sound equipment.

"This isn't how I wanted to spend my Christmas," Cass sighed as she sat on the steps of the stage that held the equipment. It was as close as she was willing to get to Tim. "I'm freezing, I'm sick of this sound stuff, and to top it all off, I have to be here with _you_."

"Feel like your head's about to explode?" Tim asked in a very been-there-blew-that tone.

"Actually..." Cass nodded in agreement.

"It's called Hurricane Stephanie."

"That sounds like a cocktail."

"Well, you aren't wrong," Tim laughed as he spliced a few wires. "How about, The Tango: Stephanie?"

Cass simply stared at him, unimpressed.

"She holds you up and then slams you down before she runs you over?"

"Stephanie would never do that," Cass glared.

If Tim's eyebrow could arch any further, it would fall off his face.

"So she's never pouted her lips and called you 'Pookie?'" he asked.

"Never," Cass defended. "...Did she used to...you know... _look_ at other boys? When she was with you?"

"More than look," Tim smirked ruefully. "Do you fall in love with her again every time she walks through the door?"

Cass looked on the wrong side of green, but Tim was feeling a lot better talking to someone who actually _knew_ Steph about all the things that used to drive him mad. He also couldn't deny that he got a sliver of satisfaction at the realization that was slowly dawning on Cass' face.

"I think Stephanie might have cheated on me... Do you think...?"

"Probably," Tim replied, pulling a soldering gun from seemingly nowhere. He supposed he could have spoken with more tact, but his attention had been momentarily focused on not burning himself. When he could spare a kind thought, he aimed it at Cass. "If it helps, she doesn't do it on purpose. It's nothing you lack that she's looking for."

"So I just pretend to believe her?" Cass asked incredulously.

"That," Tim replied as he taped the area he'd been working on carefully so no one would get electrocuted, "is up to you. I did- for a while. 'Gotta dance 'til your diva is through' and all, you know? It wasn't like I could just leave her."

That statement resounded with Cass because it was truer than she wanted to believe. Even with the confirmation that Steph had probably cheated on her, and the knowledge that she had done it so often that it had to be rationalized out, she couldn't leave her. The idea of breaking it off with Stephanie Brown was the same as deciding to stop breathing. It didn't make sense.

"Stephanie Brown," Cass huffed.

"Stephanie Brown," Tim agreed with a crooked grin. "Okay, you're patched."

"Thanks."


	5. Take Me Out or Take Me Out

Tim had found himself walking the back streets of Gotham with as much purpose as anyone. Even on Christmas, there were a lot of homeless gathered around makeshift fires. This was the Gotham that Tim's parents refused to report on. They could spend hours and money to try and repair a celebrity's reputation, but they couldn't be bothered to reveal to the world the people that actually needed help. Tim had begun recording the scene as he walked before he hadn't even really noticed. If he really meant what he had told his parents before he left, then he would have to be the one to cause a change.

He began some interviews.

* * *

 

Night life in Gotham was always alive, but even more so on a holiday like Christmas. The bar that Jason worked at was packed more than usual, and he had been called out to dance four times already by the time his shift ended. His exhaustion was only outweighed by the money stuffed in his pockets, and yet he still had something else planned for the night.

He and Dick had hit it off pretty well last night, and he was hoping that they could do it again tonight. He wasn't expecting much considering it had to be close- if not past- midnight, but it had been later than that when he had finally gone home from talking with the musician the night before.

Dick was uncomplicated. He had asked about the drugs that Jason had lost in his apartment, but he hadn't pressed when Jason made it clear that wasn't a topic he was willing speak on. The same had been silently agreed when Jason had asked about Dick's music career. The longer they spoke, the more Jason had begun to recognize him as that famous musician that had set Gotham on fire with his words, and the more Jason wondered what had happened. He would never ask, though. He had made that up in his mind the moment Dick had made it clear that it was something he was uncomfortable speaking about. This was the man that had held no judgement against Jason when he found out where he worked and how he made his money, and there weren't many people like that in the world. Jason knew there were things Dick hid, but it wasn't really his place to bring them into the light yet.

Jason went to his apartment to change first. He had spotted Dick on the fire escape, strumming a few chords on his guitar and lost in thought. He hadn't seen Jason when he waved, and Jason didn't want to call up and interrupt whatever he was thinking about. Besides, he _really_ needed a shower.

The hot water- a miracle in itself- played magic on his tired skin, and he was reminded again that he was more tired than he was willing to admit. When he got out, his eyes fell to the needle sitting on his sink counter. Drugs _would_ keep him up longer, but he didn't want to be high when he was talking to Dick. He didn't want to risk forgetting a single word. He fantasized about quitting, only to have the harsh reality of withdrawals shatter any hope of that. He already hated the feeling of coming down, so much so that there were weeks when he was always shooting. He hadn't last night because of Dick, and he hadn't that day because he had extended the open invitation- that went unanswered- for brunch. He knew he would have to soon, but he decided to put it off for a little while longer.

He didn't have much that wasn't leather or revealing, but he made do with what he had. They hadn't even had a first date, and Jason wasn't looking to come on too strong. But he had read the atmosphere between him and Dick, and he knew- or hoped at least- that if he asked him out, Dick would say yes. That was Jason's goal tonight, so it didn't matter if he was going to be dealing with something harsher than a hangover later. If he could have those blue eyes look at him again the way they had the first night, he could deal.

Jason was going to go out the front door, he really was. That is how most people left their apartment after all, but he could still hear Dick on the fire escape. He could hear him begin something before giving a sigh that usually ended with a curse, and he could hear him growl whenever the chord he had been building fell apart with one string. Jason knew he could listen to him like that forever, and some irrational part of him told him to take the fire escape instead.

* * *

Dick was caught up in his own world. Not just of lyrics and chords, but also of past smiles and lifelong regrets.

It was no secret he missed Babs. She had been the sun to _everything_ about him, and after she was gone all he had left was a black hole. He could accept that. He could accept the hollow feeling he got whenever he heard her name. He could accept the pain that resurfaced every time he looked at her ring dangling around his neck by a silver chain. What he couldn't accept was whatever he was feeling now when he thought about Jason.

Jason wasn't like Babs at all.

Barbara Gordon had been a steady constant throughout everyone's life. She had been like a stone that protected you through a tornado, something to anchor you down. With a lifestyle like Dick had led, he had needed that more than anything. But now?

Now there was Jason in his life, and he was certainly never an anchor. They had talked about their childhoods and their past failures and success to a point, and Dick couldn't believe that the person he had spoken with was still alive, let alone there to laugh at his jokes. Jason was like a wildfire, igniting everything he touched. Dick felt guilty that he wanted to get burned by him. He felt guilty that he wanted Jason at all.

Babs was in his past, but she was every part of his present, too. Every strum of his guitar was a gunshot, and every lost word was another failure to save her. He couldn't create anything past the grief of losing her. Or so he thought. He would be lying if he didn't admit that the chord that fell just short of something beautiful had begun to grow. It was longer than the three notes he had been toying with ever since Babs' death, and he would be an idiot if he didn't notice that it happened after staying up all night talking to the dancer downstairs.

Dick hated it.

Part of him had accepted that his music career was over. It wasn't like it mattered. Bruce had made it clear that he was welcomed regardless of what he did with his life, and it wasn't like any of his family was particularly fond of the life he'd chosen when he decided to go down that path. The other part of him, the part that had him sitting outside on Christmas trying to write something- _anything_ \- was the same part that came alive when he caught a glimpse of a streak of white in an otherwise mop of black hair. Dick hated that part of himself because that had been the same part that had come alive for someone who was no longer alive themselves.

Jason didn't speak when he climbed onto the platform. He simply sat on the cold steel and watched as Dick continued to try and- he didn't even know anymore. It was obvious that Dick's mind wasn't into the music, but Jason didn't believe it was his place to pull it from wherever it was resting. It took Dick a shorter time than he let on to notice Jason there, and when he did, he put away his guitar.

"Hi," Jason smiled.

"...Hi," Dick replied, and he hated that his smile wasn't forced.

"You never came to brunch," Jason noted, but there was no anger in his voice. His smile was more amused than anything, and like wildfire it caught on.

"Sorry, I got caught up in..." He gestured to all of himself, and Jason laughed before he could stop himself. Dick laughed, too.

"Are you still caught up in...?" Jason asked as he gestured towards Dick, too.

"I find it easy to get caught up in myself."

"Yes it is," Jason flirted shamelessly, and Dick blushed. "You wouldn't happen to be busy tonight, would you?"

"Are you asking me out," Dick grinned. "It's after midnight. There's no way anything is still open that we could get into."

Jason gave him the kind of smile that he reserved for when he was on stage, and it set fire to Dick's blood.

"There isn't a place in Gotham I can't get into, I promise. And if you're with me, you can get in, too."

"I don't kiss on the first date," Dick warned breathlessly as Jason came closer.

"What about before the first date?" he grinned and waited to see if Dick would say no before he kissed him more passionately than he had intended.

Dick kissed back. His fingers slid through dark hair, and he enjoyed the warmth that radiated from Jason.

He couldn't be sure if it was seconds or minutes later when he remembered what he was doing and who he was doing it with. His body felt alive in a way that he had only felt when he was on stage with thousands of people calling his name. It scared him in a way that Babs never did, and it was this more than anything else that made him push Jason away.

"I can't," Dick gasped, and he pretended not to see the hurt that suddenly crossed Jason's features. "I'm sorry, but can you go? I just... I don't want this right now."

Jason knew "this" meant "you," and he took it gracefully. He could accept it when he wasn't wanted, and he went back to his apartment without so much as a goodbye.

Dick hated himself.


	6. Rebels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like Ra's al Ghul has the kind of name that you either have to say the whole thing or just al Ghul. There is no in-between.

Tim called him an asshole.

So did Roy.

Even Kori.

It wasn't like Dick didn't know that he had treated Jason poorly. And for what? A memory?

No one had seen Jason since last night, and Dick couldn't understand the fact that he missed him. They had only known each other for a total of two days, but he had already grown attached to seeing that white streak. Dick had tried knocking on his window outside from the fire escape, but the curtains had been drawn closed and no one answered.

"You should bake him something as an apology," Kori offered.

She and Roy were lounging on the couch acting out one of Tim's screenplays that had survived two nights ago. Kori was playing some princess from another planet, and Roy was playing an archer with a penchant for bad ideas at the right times. If Dick didn't know any better, he'd think the parts were written for them. He also knew better than to think Tim had given them permission to read the script. The filmmaker was silently glaring at them from the kitchen where he was writing something else down.

"He won't let me in even if I did," Dick sighed from his perch just outside the window. He had been camped out on the fire escape since early that morning hoping that Jason would poke his head out at least. If anyone asked what he was doing, though, he would say the cold air helped him think.

"That's because you knocked on his window. You should go to his door like a normal person," Tim advised, chewing on the end of his pencil. Dick scrunched up his nose at the habit. Who knew what kind of germs sat at the end of that pencil, and it wasn't like they had the money for an ambulance if things turned bad. Then again, Dick was probably overreacting. He was often told he was somewhat of a germophobe.

"The last time he came to see me, he came from the fire escape. I think that's...better," Dick amended.

"It's sexy when an exotic dancer climbs the fire escape to ask you out on a date. It's creepy when someone like you do it. Use his door," Roy informed.

Dick was going to argue when he suddenly smelled smoke. He looked down to see a shock of white in a sea of darkness.

"Jason!"

The man nearly fell out of his window before he looked up through the mesh of metal to see Dick above him. His eyes looked conflicted, but he eventually put the cigarette out and climbed up to his level.

"You haven't baked him anything yet!" Kori chastised.

Jason squinted in her direction before he beamed. "Princess Kori?"

"You know each other?" Roy asked with a hint of possessiveness. No one acknowledged it.

"She comes down to the bar sometimes," Jason smiled. "I haven't seen you in a while, though. Did you ever handle that dog problem?"

As they continued to converse, Dick was shocked at their closeness. It felt weird that they all knew each other one way or another in such a large city where you could honestly lose yourself and never be found. It was that shock that initially kept him from answering whatever Jason had asked him. He had to repeat it before Dick caught on.

"Why did you call me up?"

"Um..."

"Wow," Roy smirked. "That's the big speech you prepared all day?"

Dick glared at him, and Tim finally put the pencil down.

"I think I'll take you two up on that lunch now."

He ushered them out the apartment, and Dick was left alone with Jason. The fear he suddenly felt was illogical but very real.

"I..."

"You don't have to apologize," Jason offered up with a smile Dick couldn't tell was forced. "I shouldn't have pushed you when you weren't interested."

"No- _no_ ," Dick shook his head hard enough to nearly damage something. It was enough to shake his thoughts loose. "I was- _am_ very interested. It's just..."

"Barbara?" Jason asked carefully.

"It's just a lot of things. Baggage, you know?" Dick gave a pained chuckle. "But I am interested. If you still are?"

Jason gave a long sigh that ended with a laugh, and for an awful second Dick wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Dick asked with childishly-wide eyes. Jason's smile this time was completely real.

"Okay. But this time, you have to ask me out," he challenged. Dick beamed.

"There's this protest tonight. Afterwards, everyone was planning on going to the Iceberg Lounge. Do you wanna come?"

"Sounds romantic," Jason joked.

* * *

The abandoned lot was completely packed by the time Stephanie climbed onto the stage that overlooked everything. She felt like a queen staring out at her subjects, and she held herself as such as she tested her equipment. She couldn't believe Tim had fixed it all for her.

Yes, they had been friends since forever, but things always became awkward after a breakup. She had tried to still spend time with him at first, before Cass had become more than a late night call on a hard night. Tim had tried to make it easy for her, offering up everything he could, and that's what had made it so hard. Despite what some might think, she really had loved Tim the same way she knew he had loved her. She treasured every second they'd spent together, but she didn't regret ending it. She was a free spirit, and she had needed to be _free_. She had been held down too long in her past to allow anyone in her present to do it, too.

She shook those thoughts out of her head as she noticed the police officers scattered throughout the crowd as well.

"This is a _peaceful_ protest, officers!" she called through the microphone. One of the cops waved dismissively at her, and she glared. She knew their presence was either Damian's or al Ghul's work, but she refused to be silenced. She walked off the stage to make her grand entrance.

 

Cass was delightedly surprised that Steph wasn't arrested when she drove her motorcycle through the crowd and onto the stage. That had been the one point of the protest that neither of them had been quite sure on the legality. If they didn't lock her up for that, then they were in the clear. Cass worked the spotlight from high above, keeping a close eye on all of the equipment to make sure everything was in working order. Steph may trust Tim Drake, but Cass herself had only their one encounter to gauge him on. She couldn't put it past him to have sabotaged her protest to get back at Steph for ending it between them.

Her fears were unfounded, and the protest towards the al Ghuls went off without a hitch. That is, it did until an officer suddenly hit the guy standing beside him. That caused a chain reaction that turned the floor into a sickening brawl between the protesters and the police. Steph tried to calm them all down, but they were all far beyond words. Cass climbed down to get her girlfriend to safety, and her eyes caught the glint from Tim's camera before everything was lost in the crowd again.

* * *

Tim groaned at the remnants of his camera as they all sat around the tables in the Lounge. He had been able to save the film, but the camera had caught a hard blow from a cop's baton. It would cost more to fix it than he would ever have, and that thought caused him to groan again.

"Look on the brightside, Timbo," Jason tried from his seat between Dick and Kori. "You'll finally get to see the world without a four-by-four frame."

If looks could kill, Dick would be single again. His glare was broken off by the sudden appearance of their waiter.

"The chef sent me back to double check your order. I highly apologize, but we just wanted to ensure that there was no mistake," he smiled. No one at the table was bothered. They were so shocked that the Iceberg Lounge had allowed them in when they knew they were hosting a private party a couple of tables over that none of them wanted to risk being thrown out before they ate. Apparently the other guests had agreed to their staying as long as they didn't interrupt their dinner. The giant red curtain between them ensured that wouldn't be much of a problem.

When the waiter was certain he had all of their attention, he began to read off their orders.

"So, that's five miso soups, four seaweed salads, three soy-burger dinners, two tofu dog platters, and one pasta with meatless balls?"

" _Ew_ ," Dick grimaced. They had agreed to all eat vegan for the night, but that? That had to be gross.

"It tastes the same," Roy assured them all.

"If you close your eyes," Jason grinned from around a glass of water.

Tim choked while Stephanie burst into laughter.

"Grayson?"

The entire group froze as the curtain was pulled back to reveal Damian Wayne. Sitting beside him was his grandfather Ra's al Ghul and a couple of his "associates."

"Oh no," Dick groaned.

"You little bastard!" Stephanie growled at the same time. "You called the cops at my protest!"

"They were there to ensure the safety of those who attended. It was a good thing they did or that riot would have gotten out of control," Damian replied coolly.

"The police _caused_ that riot," Jason glared.

Damian's stare fell on him, and he tilted his head.

"Do I know you?"

"Lord, I hope not," Tim interrupted anything Jason would have replied.

"Drake."

"Wayne," Tim retorted immaturely. Damian always brought out the worst in- well, everybody. It was quite the skill.

"How did you even get in here?" Ra's al Ghul finally spoke up.

Everyone with the exception of maybe Kori knew that Ra's al Ghul was one of the most powerful men in Gotham. For the people he couldn't buy, he normally killed, and it was terrifying to be so close to him. Blessedly- or maybe it was actually a curse- there was Roy Harper.

"You let us in."

There may have been a few more lewd comments thrown in, but the end result was still the same. They all became permanently banned from the Iceberg Lounge. It was quite the experience.

* * *

Jason had never been one for the snow. He had lived his entire life within Gotham, and he still couldn't stand the frequent weather that its winter brought. The only upside was that he was walking back to his apartment complex with Dick. The others had gone their separate ways, Roy to Kori's apartment across town and Cass and Stephanie to their own home somewhere in the big city. Tim had made some remark about selling the protest footage for a new camera, and no one had seen him since. So it was just Jason and Dick in a city of snow.

"I should tell you, since we're officially dating now," Jason smirked around a lit cigarette, "I smoke."

"You don't say," Dick gasped in mock surprise. They both laughed. "I should tell you, _since we're officially dating now_ that I don't."

"Good," Jason nodded. "It's really unhealthy."

They were silently until Jason finished his cigarette. They crossed an empty street, and both were amazed at the complete silence that _Gotham_ had become. It was the same city that had bank robberies and conspiracy plots every other week, but tonight, it was like Dick and Jason were the only two alive in the city.

"I should tell you, I kept blowing the candle out so that I could keep talking to you," Jason finally spoke up.

"I should tell you, I hadn't really smiled in a long time until you came in with your candle," Dick beamed brightly.

They went a couple more blocks in comfortable silence.

"I should tell you, I'm probably the biggest mistake you'll ever make," Jason smiled outside of their apartment complex.

"I should tell you, I could say the same," Dick smirked before he gently pushed Jason inside the building.

This time when they kissed, neither pulled away.


	7. I'll Cover You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Izzy for the comment! I'll keep trying my best on this!

New Year's Eve sounded like the worst idea anyone could think of.

So of course it came from Roy Harper.

"We're a family now," Roy stated calmly over the protests of Tim and Cass.

The two had become somewhat close, bonding over their highs and lows with Steph. Plus, they had discovered just how much damage they could do when they worked together, and Tim had become a little more successful at getting his videos seen by local television stations. It was still rare if anything came out of it, but it was better than the quick rejections they were issuing out weeks earlier. It even left them with a little more money than they were becoming used to, and that was comforting enough that they didn't feel _as_ nervous with the knowledge that it was the deadline that Damian had given them.

"I haven't spent a holiday with my family since I was ten," Tim revealed from his claimed area in the kitchen. It was covered in handwritten screenplays and notes to change things that only Tim could keep up with.

"That is both depressing and irrelevant," Roy replied. He was currently filling out an application for Gotham Academy. He hadn't said for what position. "We're a family now, so we gotta celebrate together."

"What if I have to work?" Jason asked. He was sprawled on the couch with his head resting on Dick's lap, claiming to be suffering from a migraine. Dick claimed he was giving him a massage, but it was really just an excuse to play with the white streak that had become somewhat of an obsession of his. To make matters worse, Jason wouldn't tell him what it was doing there. He had spent _hours_ thinking about it, and he still couldn't think of anything other than Jason had just decided to bleach it despite the other man assuring him that wasn't the case.

"You don't," Roy smiled triumphantly. "I checked."

"Stalker..." Jason mumbled.

"What if I'm attacked by a homicidal maniac later today?" Steph asked beside Cass who was currently trying to study for her last final before her graduation. Everyone had been surprised that she hadn't graduated already, and Cass had explained how she had found other interests that had held her back a bit. She hadn't elaborated.

"Kick him in the balls and come anyways," Roy informed her kindly.

"What if the homicidal maniac is female?" Kori asked indignantly. Roy gave her a droll stare.

"Because this is Gotham and in Gotham, the female homicidal maniacs don't mess with you on major holidays. _They_ have respect."

Cass laughed despite herself.

"Should we invite Damian?" Roy asked suddenly, and the entire room erupted in a chorus and variations of "No!"

"They do this whole gala thing at the manor when Bruce is home," Dick explained. "If he's back from his honeymoon, Bruce will make Damian attend, too."

"And you?" Jason asked, finally opening his eyes to watch his- boyfriend's?- answer.

Dick could never explain Jason's eyes. Sometimes, they seemed as blue as his own, but other times they were an acidic green that never ceased to stun him. Jason called them hazel, but they weren't a hazel Dick had ever seen. They were that green now, and it temporarily froze him when they were suddenly trained on him. When he finally got his voice back, he shook his head.

"They haven't expected me in years."

A look passed over Jason that Dick couldn't describe before he closed his eyes again.

" _Someone_ has to be able to stop Harper from hijacking or holidays," Jason sighed instead.

"Ho ho ho," Roy laughed.

"Christmas was last week," Tim called.

"I know," Roy grinned, "I was calling people out."

* * *

Kori doesn't know when she fell in love with Roy. She supposes it was the first night when she found him bleeding on the street.

Roy was endearing in a way that she should have been used to by now. He always seemed captivated by her, and he always treated her like they were a breath away from paradise. If she fell in love with him when he was broken, then whatever she felt for him when he was whole was something even deeper.

It had barely been a week. A part of her found it all utterly ridiculous. She had never been in love before. For all she knew, what she felt for Roy could be what everyone else thought of as mere infatuation. Even as she thought that, she knew that was wrong because what she felt for Roy was _deeper_ than anything she could imagine. It had barely been a week.

She and Roy were walking on the street and trading dark secrets they had never told anyone as they looked for New Year's gifts. Despite his behavior, neither had actually expected everyone to agree to celebrate New Year's together, and they suddenly had to accommodate for the pleasant predicament.

For his part, Roy couldn't believe Kori was real.

He wasn't the kind of guy that got a girl like her despite what she said. For every chance he'd been given, he had managed to screw himself over worse than anyone else could have, and every second with her made him terrified that he would do the same with her. Roy was every example of a failure, and the fact that a real live princess had decided to even look at him played miracles with his heart. In a week, he had gone from the usual cynic that was expected of those who had spent more than an hour in Gotham into a goofy idiot that was inviting friends to holiday get-togethers and buying gifts when the money would probably do better going towards keeping them from being thrown out on the street.

Kori was the kind of powerful force that only came around once in a lifetime, and Roy couldn't believe she'd come in _his_ lifetime.

"Did you notice if Stephanie had her ears pierced?" Kori asked as she squinted at a pair of coral earrings that would probably go horribly with Stephanie's eyes.

"I don't think she does," Roy lied for the sake of friendship. Kori smiled up at him knowingly, and he was hit with a rush of love that he couldn't comprehend.

"I've never been good at picking out gifts. I much prefer just giving out cash, but that is bad luck on New Year's from where I'm from."

"Well, I'm sure they'll like whatever. I don't think any of them are expecting much besides alcohol," Roy shrugged good-naturedly.

"I could just kiss you right now," she laughed as they continued to walk. The streets were always filled with vendors trying to kick the upcoming year off a few dollars richer, and it made it easier to find something for everyone.

"I couldn't give you much for it," Roy joked. Kori smiled at him sympathetically.

"The only thing I want from you is your heart, Roy. Give me that, and I'll give you the world."

"Every time you smile, you give me the world," Roy admitted.

* * *

Jason showed up an hour late which was still thirty minutes earlier than intended. His head felt like dynamite was going off just behind his skull, and he knew that his shivering wasn't just because of the cold. He hadn't had a hit in days, not since Dick had subtly suggested that he try quitting with the world's best impression of a puppy for his resolution, and they both knew he was stupid for those damn blue eyes. In exchange, Dick resolved to finish a song.

No one commented on his irritability, and no one questioned it when he explained it away with another migraine.

The fireworks played hell with his eyesight, but he had to admit that he loved the warmth that radiated off of Dick who was wrapped around him. It was partly out of support and partly out of cheer of the new year, and when he kissed him at the end of the countdown, it was completely out of joy. It was enough to push the pain down, and Jason managed to enjoy himself a fraction more than he would ever admit.

The walk back to their apartment was filled with laughter and gift exchanges- Jason had gotten a discreetly wrapped CD from Roy and Kori, and he had given them a box that didn't rattle when shaken. He had given Dick a new set of picks because for all his holier-than-thou attitude towards germs, he chewed up his picks like they were musician-doggie treats. Steph and Cass had parted with them when it began to snow, but they had given out weird boxes that _absolutely could not be opened in their presence_. The one they'd gotten for Tim was slightly bigger than the others, and they had held him to the same rule.

All things considered, Jason was pleasantly surprised by how well the night had gone.

If only it could have stayed that way.

* * *

Dick didn't know what he expected from his younger brother.

He didn't expect charity, not from Damian Wayne, but he also didn't expect there to be a padlock on their apartment door. Kori had made short work of the lock with a trash can and brute force, but that didn't change much. Everything in their apartment had been cleared out. It took less than a second for Dick to realize that "everything" included his guitar.

He probably could have forgiven Damian for all of it. For going back on his word, for even kicking them out, but he _knew_ what that guitar meant to him. The fact that he had taken it crossed a line that had been drawn in blood.

Jason had gone to check his own apartment, but he had returned in time to see an expression he had never seen on Dick before. Anger.

"I'm going to _kill_ him," Dick promised.

"He didn't touch my stuff," Jason admitted as he looked around their empty apartment. He gave a low whistle.

"This was Damian?" Tim asked, eyes wide. Dick nodded in silence.

"I'm going to _kill_ him," he repeated.

Jason had been quiet throughout their whole realization, but the real intent in Dick's eyes made him speak up.

"Before you go murder him and make me have to visit you in prison, give it a couple days. I...might be able to do something."

Dick gave him a questioning look but said nothing. Roy scoffed.


	8. Way Down We Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A comment! Thanks, Izzy! Also, mega-thanks for the kudos everyone!  
> \--  
> Note: Yes, I'm aware that it isn't a RENT song. I'm 9% sorry.  
> ("Way Down We Go" by Kaleo)

Jason's hands were shaking by the time he ended the phone call, and he wasn't sure if it was from the withdrawal or from the call itself. Both were things he dreaded, but he would have preferred the withdrawal over the person he had just spoken to.

Jason wasn't proud of his past. He was proud he'd survived it. He'd grown up calling criminals family and rarely knowing anything kinder than a punch or a kick. He had lied, and he had stolen to get out of that life. Yes, he had brought a few vices out with him, but he was whole and he was usually happy. That phone call had just reminded him of every awful thing he had once had to do just to survive, and if it was for anyone else, it wouldn't have happened.

But he had called for Dick.

Dick, who was currently out getting him ice-packs because Jason kept having heat flashes in the middle of the night. Dick, who hummed him through the pain and stood in the shower with him afterwards. Dick, who Jason found himself actually falling in love with despite the fact that they hadn't even labeled whatever they have together yet. Dick, who Jason had just called in the hardest favor for.

Jason curled on his bed as the shaking continued. He felt like he'd been run over repeatedly by a semi, and he knew that was the withdrawal. He also knew it would take less that five minutes to dig his stash out from where he had hidden it in his dresser and have a needle in his arm. It would take no time at all for the drug to kick in and ease the pain. It would also take no time at all to feel the guilt afterwards. Jason had slipped twice already, and Dick had been patient but disappointed. He had made a big show of it not being a big deal when Jason could tell that it really was. So instead, Jason hit play on his CD player.

The CD- the New Year's gift from Roy and Kori- had been one of Dick's in his earlier years. Jason didn't know how early it had to have been, but he wondered if it was before Barbara. He bit his lip and hit play. He refused to be jealous of a ghost. The first thing Jason noticed about the song was that he completely understood the craze that the world had fallen in. Dick's voice was like nothing he had ever heard, and he regretted not talking him into at least singing one of his older songs for him sooner.

_Oh, Father, tell me_

_Do we get what we deserve?_

_Do we get what we deserve?_

The irony of the lyrics didn't miss him, but Jason chose to ignore it in favor of the music as a whole. If he could help it, he would never tell Dick what he had just done. As far as any of them were concerned, miracles just happened sometimes.

_You let your feet run wild_

_Time has come as we all go down_

_Yeah, but for the fall, oh, my_

_Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?_

Jason fell asleep to probably the only time he would ever have Dick sing to him.

* * *

They could call him a sellout.

Tim was pretty sure Dick would. He was certain Steph had even as she drove him into downtown Gotham with Cass. He couldn't have asked anyone else to do this with him. Roy would have read him the riot act, and Kori would have used his camera to tape it. Dick had been busy with whatever Jason was going through- Tim wasn't stupid, he knew it wasn't a cold- so that left Steph and Cass. That didn't mean they were happy about it.

"You used to have _morals_ , Tim! Where did they go?" Steph asked as she eased into a parking spot near their destination.

"Out on the street with the rest of my stuff. If I do this, I can pay the rent," Tim replied with the same speech he'd been repeating in his head the entire ride there.

"Well, I hope your rent is worth your soul," Steph spat as they got out.

They stood in front of Drake Media, the largest news syndicate on the East Coast and incidentally where Tim's parents worked. Well, ran. It was one of the many businesses that had pushed Tim away. Now, it had him crawling back.

"I should be back out in less than hour," he replied instead, and he heard Steph scoff behind him.

"We're coming in with you. What if this is like some weird sci-fi movie where during the interview they have a clone of you and it kills and replaces you?"

Tim laughed as they walked in before his eyes caught on Cass who had barely said anything the entire trip.

"Are you just silently condemning me?" he half-joked.

She shook her head.

"Sometimes you have to sacrifice to realize a dream. If you feel this is something you need to do, then I won't fight you on it."

Both Tim and Steph gaped at her, and Cass flushed.

"What?" she asked.

"I thought you hated me," Tim shook his head with a surprised smile on his face.

"I know you hated him," Steph said at the same time, and Cass shook her head at both of them.

"You're going to be late if you keep this up."

 

The interview was a formality, a way for his parents to remind him exactly who held the power. It was an added insult that neither could be bothered to hold the interview themselves. Instead, he sat in front of a man named Clark Kent. Tim didn't recognize him from the tours he'd taken when he was younger, so he guessed that Clark must be new.

His office was mostly glass, and Tim had a clear view of the waiting area where Steph and Cass kept a look out for murderous clones. Tim turned his attention to the awards Clark had on his desk and around the office. He had to admit, he was a little bit impressed.

"I know it took a lot to come here," Clark smiled at him, and Tim wondered why exactly a reporter needed to be as fit as he was. He looked like he could snap Tim in half with his pinkie.

"You have to do what you have to do," Tim replied instead.

"I've seen some of your footage- of what your trying to do out there- and I think it's great. You'll be a great addition to the team."

Tim accepted the advanced check and noted exactly how much his dignity was worth. There were a couple more zeroes than he thought.

* * *

Dick sighed as he entered Jason's apartment and heard one of his songs filtering through the rooms. He had known the minute he'd seen the gift wrapped what Kori and Roy had picked out, but he had hoped he'd never have to hear it.

He found Jason in a ball on his bed, and he noted that the dancer looked more at ease than he had since the last time he'd sneaked a hit. Dick knew about the secret stash that Jason kept even after promising to get rid of everything, just as he knew that Jason hadn't touched it yet. There were nights when Jason couldn't sleep through the pain, and Dick had contemplated drugging him himself to at least help. He had seen the horror stories- back when he had gone down that road and- and not a second went by that he was afraid that Jason was going to end up like one of the hundreds that died from withdrawals every year.

Dick felt his forehead and was relieved that he didn't have a fever. He wondered if Babs had gone through this with him all those years back. He groaned and turned off the player. He hadn't told Jason- he hadn't told _anyone_ \- but his real New Year's resolution had been to let go of Barbara. She had been a wonderful part of his life, but it was over now. She was over. He had Jason in his life now, and he was certainly no less wonderful.

Jason began to stir in the sudden silence, and Dick began running a hand through his hair. He was singing before he could stop himself, and Jason quickly settled.

" _And way down we go_."

The irony wasn't missed.


	9. Take Me As I Am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments, Kayla and Izzy! Also, thanks for the kudos everyone!
> 
> Warning: Remember when I mentioned the need for tissues? That time is coming _soon_.

Steph had been blatantly flirting with the receptionist during Tim's interview, and he had noticed the anger practically rolling off of Cass. When they walked out of the building, Stephanie had feigned innocence. The tension between the two was enough to have Tim nervous, but the last straw was when the red-head rolled by. Steph actually stopped walking to watch as she passed which caused them to stop as well.

" _Really_?" Cass gasped as Steph finally started moving again.

"What?" she asked, and Tim really believed she didn't understand Cass' anger.

" _Really_?" was all she could repeat.

Tim was grateful they were away from most of the foot-traffic, but if they continued it wouldn't be long until people gathered to watch the latest spectacle. He was suddenly wondering why he didn't just walk into town. It would have just been a mile in a suit. It probably wouldn't have killed him.

"Pookie, I don't get why you're so mad," Steph smiled. Tim winced at the nickname.

"Do _not_ call me that."

"What is the _matter_ with you?"

Cass took in a deep breath while closing her eyes. When she opened them, her voice was deadly calm.

"I can't do this." It sounded like a revelation, but Steph treated it like a curse.

" _What_? You can't do what?"

" _This_ ," Cass informed as she gestured to Steph. "If you want that receptionist or that red-head so bad, do us both a favor and go after them. I'm tired of being a permanent booty call or something to you."

Cass had started to walk off when Steph stopped her.

"Poo- _Cassandra_ ," Steph amended. "You are so much more than that to me. I...I _love_ you."

 _No way_ , Tim thought to himself as Steph got on one knee in front of Cass.

"I love you," she repeated. Cass shook her head, though tears were in her eyes.

"This doesn't matter if you can't commit to me," she informed her. Steph gave her a lazy smile before she removed one of her rings and placed it on Cass' left hand.

"I love you."

* * *

 

"I give it three weeks," Jason stated as they sat around a table during the engagement party. He had been doing a lot better lately with the addiction and the withdrawals. Maybe it was because he knew that his days with Dick were numbered now or maybe he was finally getting better, he didn't know. He did know that Roy had been casually switching his champagne to ginger ale as if he were pregnant. Given that, Jason knew his addiction wasn't as secret as he and Dick had intended.

"I give it three hours," Tim retorted around his own glass. He had been remarkably okay through the whole party, and everyone was secretly wondering when he would have his meltdown. Steph had been everything to him, and she had broken it off because they had been getting too serious. This was exactly what she had left him for, and it had to sting that Cass was getting what he could only dream of.

"I give it a year," Kori remarked boldly. All eyes turned to her.

"An optimist, are we?" Roy grinned even though he already knew that she was. Kori gave him a smile that was the equivalent to a love song.

"Wait, Tim, what are you going to do?" Dick suddenly asked, and his roommate raised a confused brow. Dick elaborated. "Both Cass and Steph asked you to be their best man. What are you going to do?"

Tim took a deep sip from his champagne instead of revealing he didn't think they'd even get that far. As if on cue, they all spotted Steph make a beeline for the open bar. She had just come from speaking with her and Cass' parents and that couldn't have gone all that well.

"Please tell me you have something stronger than _this_?" Steph pouted at the empty champagne bottle in her hand. The bartender gave her an easy smile and a fresh glass filled with something amber and strong. Steph giggled. "Has anyone ever told you that you have the prettiest eyes?"

"Stop her," Kori pleaded.

Tim finished off his drink. If he stopped her now, there would just be another bartender at another party, and this would all happen again. It was better to happen sooner rather than later so that Cass could be reminded exactly who she was marrying. She "saw" that when she exited the same room as Steph and saw the woman she planned to marry making out with the bartender. Roy gave a low whistle.

"I'm glad I didn't put money on this," Jason shook his head.

The fallout was more than what was to be expected.

* * *

Cass didn't know how she found Stephanie. Maybe it was a lot of bad choices at the right time, or maybe it was just some cosmic coincidence. Maybe if she were anyone else at any other time, she would have been able to ignore the hurricane. She could have avoided getting swept up in Stephanie Brown's dance.

It all came together when she saw Steph so lost in the bartender that she didn't even notice the scandalized looks around them. She didn't even notice Cass until someone- maybe Roy?- cleared their throat. She unceremoniously dropped him like a bag of potatoes before beaming at Cass.

"Pookie!"

"No."

The silence was enough to choke any humor that was in the room. Even Stephanie couldn't manage a smile.

Cass knew she probably dug her own grave. She ignored all the late night texts and all the times Steph came stumbling in smelling like someone else. She ignored the nicknames and the public flirting. She ignored _everything_ because she told herself that she loved her. And she did. Cass couldn't imagine what her life would have been like if it weren't for the supernova that was Stephanie Brown. That didn't stop Cass from deciding that she would learn.

"You can keep the apartment. The rent is paid up to the end of next month, so that should give you plenty of time to find a new roommate."

Cass' voice was devoid of emotion, and it was obvious by Steph's expression that it was so much worse than yelling.

"Pookie, do we need to do this now? It's our engagement party," Steph tried to placate.

"So it's inappropriate for us to break up at our _engagement party_ but it's okay to make out with the bartender?"

Steph looked surprised.

"That? I was celebrating! I'm about to get married to _the_ Cassandra Cain-"

"No, you're not. I _waited_ for you, Stephanie! While you cheated again and again, I waited. And I thought it was me! I thought maybe there was something I couldn't give you. Something that I lacked that you needed to find in someone else. I _told_ myself it was  _my fault_ that you couldn't love me!"

It was the first time Steph had ever seen Cass cry, and it unnerved her more than she cared to admit.

"I do love you, Cassandra. I always have. You know I'm a free spirit! I can't be held down-"

Steph realized she'd used the wrong words the moment they came out of her mouth.

"- _Held down_? I'm holding you down? From _what_? What do you do that I'm preventing you from doing?"

"Pookie, you're uptight. You wouldn't understand what it feels like to _be_ free."

" _Stop calling me 'Pookie!'_ " Cass growled before throwing down the glass she didn't notice she was holding. The entire room was startled, but both women held their ground. "And excuse me for being _responsible_. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even know how to pay a bill!"

"I don't even know how I've lived with someone so closed-off for so long!"

" _You_? I can't believe I stayed with you!" Cass yelled.

"Then allow me to end it," Steph spat.

" _You're_ breaking up with _me_?" Cass shouted indignantly.

Steph sneered.

"Fine. Fine, fine, _fine_. I'm done."

Cass walked off. Steph looked around at everyone before she stormed off in a different direction.

"Maybe this means you two can get back together," Mrs. Brown, Stephanie's mother, smiled as she placed a hand on Tim's shoulder. The filmmaker choked on his drink.

* * *

The end began with a sudden cough.


	10. Reprise and Failed Tries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you love a hiatus with updates? I do.
> 
> Thanks for the comment, Izzy! Also, thanks for the kudos!
> 
> (Note: I apologize for run-on sentences. I blame Faulkner and Hamilton.)

Damian appeared on their doorstep looking one shade shy of a tomato. It was less than hour after he had called saying that he needed to speak with Tim and Dick that they were all gathered in their recently re-furnished apartment. The phone call had been the first contact Dick had had with his little brother since the whole fiasco after New Year's. Damian hadn't returned any of his calls, and Dick had suspected his number had been blocked until recently. All their things had been returned and the teenager behaved as if nothing ever happened. If it weren't for his expression, Dick would have believed it.

"Why the change of heart?" Tim asked cautiously. "We haven't paid you the full amount yet."

"Grandfather... Grandfather has decided to allow the neighborhood to remain as it is. He believes it would be a shame to destroy an entire neighborhood filled with _whatever_ you lot are considered to be."

Dick scoffed.

Ra's al Ghul changing his mind was even more unlikely as Damian changing his. There wasn't a doubt in Dick's mind that something else was behind their sudden charity.

"So when is the new rent due?" he asked instead. Damian tutted before he held up a thin stack of papers.

"This is the new lease. Consider it in good faith."

As Dick and Tim read over it, their skepticism grew.

"This says that there is no rent," Tim eventually spoke up.

"As I said, Drake, consider it in good faith."

"You and your family don't function on good faith," Tim sneered. "If it isn't bloody, it isn't working."

"I'll have you to remember that Grayson is part of my family as well," Damian chose to reply.

"You don't act like it," Tim shot back.

"What's the catch?" Dick interrupted them before they could turn their argument into an actual fight. The last thing he needed was for one of them to kill the other. There was no way to cover it up this time of year, after all.

"There isn't one," Damian replied, and it seemed to take great effort to pull his attention away from Tim who was making a slightly obscene gesture. "You can read over the contract for weeks, but there's no loopholes and no catch. You can live here rent free, and you have it in writing."

"If there's no catch, then why would _Ra's al Ghul_ have a change of heart?"

Damian's gaze darkened for a fraction of a second before he turned to leave.

"Maybe you can ask Todd. He and Grandfather seem to be pretty close as things would have it."

And then he left.

* * *

When Dick looks at him, Jason can tell that he knows.

Maybe he doesn't know the exact details that led to the favor, but he knows that Jason was behind it. He knows that Jason hasn't told him everything about his past, and part of him knows that Dick is hypocrite for holding that against him. The latter wouldn't even tell him why he wouldn't sing. He couldn't judge Jason.

But those blue eyes are damning him as the look him up and down, and Jason _knows_.

"How do you know Ra's al Ghul?" Dick asks, and his voice is void of any emotion.

"Everyone knows Ra's al Ghul," Jason dodges, and he hopes that it will be enough.

"But you know him better than everyone else," Dick states. It isn't a question, and Jason doesn't treat it like one. He takes a deep breath and sits on the end of his bed. He knows better than to invite Dick to sit beside him.

"He owed me a favor... From back when I was a kid."

Dick swears, more because what Jason said was impossible than because he's angry. Ra's al Ghul didn't owe anyone anything. He made that more than clear with the trail of bodies that followed his name like a river. He never held a thing that he thought could come back and haunt him later. If Jason was alive and Ra's al Ghul _owed_ him, there was more to it than a simple favor.

"What did you do?"

Jason doesn't miss the accusation in his voice, and everything in him screams for Dick to just stop. To stop looking at him, to stop talking, to just _stop_.

"I was a _kid_ ," Jason groaned.

"What. Did. You. Do?" Dick asked again, and his tone sparked Jason's anger.

"You don't get to ask me that when you won't even tell me what ended your music career! You won't tell _anyone_."

Dick glared and stepped right up to him. Jason stood so that he wouldn't completely tower over him. When they were right in front of each other like this, Jason could be reminded of how beautiful Dick was. Even seconds away from strangling him, Dick looked closer to Heaven than Jason knew he ever deserved to come. He could understand where Roy was coming from when he called Kori his heaven. Dick was his, and all that was falling down around him in vibrant shades of blue and red.

"You wanna know what ended my music career, _Jason_?" Dick asked. He said his name like it was the worst curse he could come up with, and Jason bit his tongue against a retort. "I can't sing because my talent died right along with the woman I loved. Barbara was shot right in front of me and any love I held for anything died with her! Are you happy? _Now you know_. What did you do to have Ra's al Ghul _owe_ you enough to forgive an entire year's worth of rent and any future rent?"

Jason swallowed hard, and he wished he was anywhere else. He wished they could have been like Steph and Cass, with their biggest problem being polyamory.

"I was kid," he repeated instead, and he wished he could forget the distrust in Dick's eyes. He closed his own eyes before he continued talking. "I did something... Something I am _never_ proud of... He had an FBI agent after him that had this thing with drugs. al Ghul had been feeding his habit in exchange for him turning a blind eye, but something happened and he cut him off. The agent was becoming a problem and al Ghul needed someone who was connected to him to...deliver a gift to him."

Jason paused, hoping Dick would let it end there, but no sound came from him. Jason opened his eyes to see Dick still holding that same distrusting gaze, and there was no wish that could save him from what was coming.

"It was a cocktail of drugs- I don't know what- and he had me give it to him. That's it, okay? That's the favor."

Dick raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Why _you_? Out of all of the citizens of Gotham, why did he choose you?"

Jason couldn't tell him the real reason. It was buried deeper than Dick's despair over losing Barbara, and it was a lot darker. It wasn't an argument, he knew it was. It was the reason why he even began taking drugs, and it was the reason he tried so hard to get lost in everything but himself.

He knew his silence was damning, and Dick scoffed at him.

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the apartment.

* * *

If anyone told Roy that he would be in love at twenty-six, he would have laughed at them. He was all about logic and impulse and finding the in-between. He was something free and caged at the same time, and he _liked_ it that way. Still, with Kori, it was like something he never knew was missing just clicked into place. If he liked the paradox that had been his life, he _loved_ the comforting madness that he was in now.

Kori represented a peace that he never thought he would be allowed to have. Roy was smart. He didn't believe in happily-ever-afters, but he believed in the heaven that she supplied. It was like being able to lay by the sun without getting burned. She was everything he wanted, and everything he knew he didn't deserve. He never thought that a princess from another country could ever notice him, let alone love him.

The end began with a sudden cough.

Kori had always been healthy enough. She told herself that it was because she had to live for both her parents, but she always counted herself lucky that she hadn't caught anything while living on the streets. It wasn't hard out there. Disease was as much a part of their lives as hunger and depression. But just as she had been able to stave off the depression, Kori had been able to avoid catching anything terribly serious.

In her country, there wasn't much that threatened her people. They lived in a hot almost desert-like area that was surrounded by mountains. The people had to be sturdy to survive such conditions. The only thing that regularly killed them was a disease that often caused them to quarantine entire villages. No one knew how it spread, and no one knew how to cure it. The only thing anyone could do once it began was to find someplace to die.

When she began to cough, this thought crossed her mind. What if she had caught it somehow? Even miles away from her homeland, maybe there was a way for her to contract it? Roy soothed her fears almost as soon as they had arisen. With logic and with love, he had eased everything that pained her.

It continued when she couldn't eat.

Her appetite was non-existent, and everything tasted more or less like dust. That wasn't a symptom of her country's disease, but it was unsettling to say the least.

Roy took her to a clinic that was run by a doctor who had patched him up more than enough times that he knew he could trust her. The examination and tests were enough to exhaust the princess, but Kori stayed alert. Whatever was wrong with her, she wanted to know immediately.

The diagnosis was more a question than anything else. Every test ran came back inconclusive, and no one could tell Kori what was wrong with her. Roy asked for more tests, but Kori asked for sleep. Her vote won over, and they returned to their home so she could rest.

Days went by with Kori getting worse. Her coughs had turned into bloody hacks, and she had lost too much weight to manage another trip to the clinic.

"I feel like I'm dying," she half-joked, but Roy didn't find it funny.

He ran his fingers through her fiery hair, and he was reminded of the first time they met. The first time he'd glimpsed Heaven.

"Why are you crying?" she asked, and he realized that he was. She reached up to wipe his tears away, but he caught her hands. She had done everything for him. He couldn't let her do that, too.

"I'm scared," he admitted, and she gave a weak laugh.

"Isn't that my line?"

Roy couldn't catch the sob before it escaped, and Kori tsked at him.

"Did you know...where I come from, we burn our dead... We believe that our ancestors came from the stars, and by-" She was interrupted by a fit of coughing. Roy handed her a tissue that was returned painted red. When she continued, her voice was weaker. "-by burning them, the embers can...return."

Roy tried to shush her, but she wasn't having it.

"I...couldn't do that for my parents...I don't know if...if the embassy did...Do you think they went to the stars?"

Roy didn't miss the way her body suddenly went limp, and he didn't miss the way the light suddenly drained out of her emerald eyes. He just couldn't think about it. He held her still warm hand against his forehead and cried. Hard.

"Yeah," he choked out. "I'm sure they're in the stars now."

Roy said goodbye to Heaven.

 


	11. Goodbye, Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Sunrise for commenting! Thanks also to those who left kudos! They make me creep out of my hiatus every so often. (Yes, it is still a hiatus if I update during it. Jospeh Fink says so.)

Roy looked out at all of his friends as he stood at the podium beside Kori's ashes. He had never known anyone to be cremated before, but to know that the love of his life had gone the way she wanted was a piece of relief he hadn't expected. It was enough to have him standing before everyone in better shape than he would later give himself credit for. When he thinks back on this moment- on this _day_ \- he will only remember the chill that permeated everything. He will only remember the silence that was normally filled with Kori's laughter. He wouldn't remember Jason's pupils blown out or the bags under Dick's eyes. He wouldn't remember Tim having to sit between Cass and Stephanie to keep them from arguing. He wished he wouldn't remember any of it.

"Kori... _Princess Koriand'r_ ," Roy managed, a smile forming at her title. She loved- well, had loved- talking about her homeland. She spoke about the heat that made it impossible to wear much of anything, and she joked about the absurdity of the titles her people insisted on. Roy knew she secretly missed being a princess, and he would always whisper it to her when he thought her smiles were just on the wrong side of genuine. For every sense and purpose, she was his princess. She was his everything.

It took him a long moment to continue, but no one rushed him. Everyone knew Roy before Kori. They knew the mess that he had been, and they knew how close he had been to an edge no one could pull him from. Kori had managed something no one could have imagined. She'd turned a believer out of a cynic. So if Roy was a little choked up- and he was a lot more than that- then no one would judge him for it.

"She was a light that this world desperately needed. She was strong when I was weak, and she was brave when I couldn't muster up the courage to do what needed to be done. She was everything I needed, and I..."

This time, Roy didn't- _couldn't_ \- finish. He stepped down from the podium to allow anyone else to find some kind of closure he wasn't looking for yet. He didn't want to let her go, and he dared anyone to tell him he had to. Jason stepped up.

He was high. It wasn't a question. He hadn't been sober since the night Dick had stormed out. It was the only way he could be around anyone at the moment, and Jason didn't miss the irony that he was more put-together high than when his hands had been shaking almost too badly to hold the first needle. He had lost count how many hits he'd had. Every time he felt his buzz begin to fade, he took more. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't afraid of coming down. While he was high, he didn't think about all the awful nights it had taken to get clean, or the patient arms he'd laid in during that time. It was only sober that he remembered the low humming of a song whose words hadn't been written and the blue of eyes that cursed every breath he took. So, he was high.

"Kori was impossible," he grinned fondly. He wasn't so out of it that he didn't know he was at a funeral, but he refused to let her death ruin Kori's life. "I remember the first time we met, she tipped me a grand to get off the stage. She needed someone to walk with her uptown, and she had already beat up five guys for trying something with her. She figured if she had a guy on her arm, they'd be less likely to try something. When she told me she was a princess from a far off country, I laughed right her face. She treated Gotham like it was a stepping stone..."

Jason gave an incredulous laugh before he stepped down. He didn't look at anyone as he found his seat in the far back away from everyone else.

* * *

They all gathered inside Dick and Tim's apartment. It was for Roy's benefit. None of them wanted him to go back to the apartment he had shared with Kori...to where she had died. It had ate at all of them that they hadn't been there for her final moments. They had been wrapped up in their own brand of pain, and none of them had thought that she was _that_ sick. They didn't think they would lose her. It wasn't until they were all together again that they realized someone would have to be civil and speak.

"Dick."

Jason's voice came as a shock to everyone- including Jason. He and Dick hadn't spoken since that night, and everyone knew they were a bomb ready to go off every time they were in the same room.

"Looks like you slipped again."

Dick's voice was cold enough to freeze Gotham over again. Tim stood and moved between them.

"Come on, guys... Not today, alright?" he tried, but it was obvious everyone was looking for a fight.

And why not? It was so much easier to lash out than to deal with the pain of losing one of their own. It was a basic fact that people died in Gotham- that they died in general- but this was different. Kori was one of them. She had laughed with them. She had cried with them. She had broken into their apartment for them. Her loss was personal, but there was nothing they could take it out on. Nothing but themselves.

"I hear you're moving back to the Wayne place," Jason replied instead of commenting on Dick's response. It wasn't like he _slipped_ into drugs again. It was a full-frontal, intentional step, and he had yet to regret it. He gestured to Damian, the only one who probably wouldn't understand what a big mistake Dick was making. He mostly wondered what the youngest Wayne was doing there if not to finally get his way.

"Yeah. I'm moving back in after this is over. So I'm guessing you won't be needing me to help you stay away from drugs this time?" Dick sneered. Jason flinched and his face flushed against his will.

"I thought you weren't talking to him anymore," Damian tsked.

"Who said _you_ get any say in who he says things to?" Steph snapped at him, and Tim tried to gain control once again.

"Really, guys-"

"Who said _you_ should stick your nose in other people's busi-" Cass started.

"Who said I was talking to you?" Steph growled.

"I used to have to deal with this every day!" Cass barked. "You have always been so selfish!"

"He was the same way," Dick glared at Jason. "'Don't make me share you with a ghost.' Did you ever think how painful that was? How painful letting her go for _you_ was?"

"I'd die for a taste of what Kori and Roy had," Cass sighed. "For someone who could love me and only me."

"Of just for someone who knew what love _was_ ," Dick added, and he didn't know why. He couldn't think of a time when he had told Jason he loved him, but he knew the other hadn't said it before either. Still, there was never a doubt in his mind that Jason had felt _something_ for him. He had been willing to go through withdrawal and worse just to make him happy. But he knew saying it would cut Jason deep, so he did.

"Nice words from someone who could never manage to love anyone besides a memory," Jason spat.

" _Stop_!"

Tim's voice shocked them all out of whatever cloud they had been sucked into, but it was too late. They all caught the flash of red as Roy went out the door.

"Good job," Steph sighed.

* * *

"Maybe going back home will do you some good," Tim tried after everyone had left.

He had abandoned he spot in the kitchen in favor of sitting next to Dick on the fire escape. The same place that they had thrown out their burning dreams. The same place that Jason had first seen Dick, and the same place they had first fallen in love. Tim wasn't stupid. He knew from the first time he'd seen them together that they were in love. The fact that it had all become so twisted and broken seemed a cruel joke nobody was laughing at.

"Maybe," Dick replied. His guitar was in his hands, but it was just dead weight. He hadn't managed so much as a single note since his last encounter with Jason, and Tim was surprised the other hadn't realized why.

"Are you really going to throw away what you have- had- with Jason over a stupid fight?" Tim sighed as he stared out over Gotham. The city was bathed in shades of black and red, and it looked like the city was bleeding. It seemed fitting. Everything else was dying, so why should Gotham be spared from its own disease?

"I don't even _know_ him, Tim. You don't, either. If you knew who he dealt with- even as a _kid_ -"

"You do understand who your little brother is, don't you?" Tim defended. Dick shook his head.

"That doesn't count. Damian is family. I couldn't just cut him out of my life."

"But you could cut out Jason?" Tim questioned.

Dick made a sound similar to a drowning man before he snapped.

"What right do you have to judge me?"

"What? I'm not-"

"-You spend more time behind your camera than in the real world. Maybe if you had put it down you could have seen Steph pulling away."

Tim took a very deep breath. He knew Dick was hurting, but they _all_ were. That didn't mean Tim was signing up to be his personal punching bag.

"Are you really mad at Jason, or are you just afraid of losing yourself in him?"

Dick bites his lip before looking into the city as well. He decides to tell Tim about Barbara and the real reason why he couldn't perform. Tim remains silent through it all, but in the end even he can't remain calm.

"So you feel like you're cheating on Barbara because you love Jason?" he scoffed. Dick winced.

"It's not...It's not like that. It just feels like it should hurt a lot more to leave her behind. It shouldn't be so easy to be with Jason after her..."

"Maybe going back home will do you some good," Tim repeats, sounding more tired than someone his age should ever have a right to.

Dick gave a forced laugh.

"Maybe I'll have a revelation or something."

He got up and finished packing his things. Tim remained sitting there, watching a city that would see them all ripped to shreds.

"Well...bye?" Dick waved at his back.

Tim remained silent as the sun continued to set.

"Tim."

His roommate pulled his knees up to his chest, but otherwise didn't move.

"I'll call," Dick sighed before locking the door behind him.

Tim remained in that spot until the apartment was shrouded in darkness. He watched as his breath turned into half-clouds that dispersed long before they broke free of the city. When he thinks back to that day, he wouldn't remember the pain as his nails dug into his palms. He would remember the chill as the wind froze his tears to his face.

"I hate the Fall," he finally spoke.

He doesn't remember when he moved from that spot.

* * *

Jason heard every word.


	12. Without You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Gzimmer3 and Izzy for commenting! Thanks also to all those who leave kudos! I hope you're all having fun as things are wrapping up from NaNo!
> 
> Sorry for it being kinda short!

_I'm a vice_ , Jason Todd decided. He could always turn himself into whatever he needed to survive, after all.

He was a bad habit that someone could pick up and then quit with enough effort. It was something he was so used to, he couldn't understand why thinking of Dick  still came as such a heavy blow. Every time he thought of the other man, he was reminded of sweet smiles and gentle humming. Every time he thought of the other man, he wanted to break down.

Jason was haunted by blue eyes and an angelic voice every time he closed his eyes. They tortured him worse than any nightmare, and the memory of what they had once had always rubbed him too raw to function. So he didn't.

He moved almost mechanically through his life. He didn't each much- nothing tasted right- and he didn't barely slept. He managed to make it to work between hits, but even he didn't know how his boss allowed him to continue to working there in his current state. He didn't even recognize the foreign bodies that sometimes warmed the other side of his bed, and he couldn't care less.

Weeks passed by in a haze of drugs and bad choices. There were times- times when Jason wasn't sure if he was on a bad trip or if the drugs just weren't strong enough to drown out reality- that he thought he saw Kori, and every time he did, she looked more and more upset at what he was becoming. She never talked. She never told him he was being stupid or that he was killing himself. She didn't have to. Jason wasn't stupid. He just didn't _care_.

Kori did manage to lead him away from the worst of it most days. She saw him home when he was too out of it to know the difference between left and right. She pulled him away from the newer drugs that were becoming popular on the street every day. She was just _there_ , and Jason couldn't figure out why.

"Shouldn't you be haunting Roy or something?" he asked when he couldn't get up from his bed one day.

He didn't know which day. He'd stopped going to work after he caught a familiar glimpse of blue eyes that had stopped him cold before he realized it wasn't him. It wasn't Dick. It was enough to shock him, and Jason couldn't talk himself into returning after that had continued to happen. A part of him kept hoping that Dick would return- if not to him then at least to the apartment building- but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He couldn't keep up with the days after that.

Kori shook her head. She looked sad, and Jason wanted to swear at her. She had never looked sad when she was alive. There were a couple times when he suspected she might be. Maybe when she talked about her home country, her voice was a little too cheerful. Maybe when she told stories of the friends she'd made while traveling around America, her eyes were a little too bright. Still, she had never _looked_ sad. She refused to let it defeat her. To think that she could let it overtake her in death, and because of _him_ , hurt in a way he didn't know he could feel anymore.

"I bet he still misses you," Jason sighed. "We all do, but he's weird without you. He moved back to Star City."

Kori laid a cold hand against Jason's forehead, and he shivered.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm just fine."

Kori raised a skeptical brow, and Jason was impressed that the dead could be just as judgmental as the living. Even though this was probably as lucid as he'd been in days, he couldn't appreciate it while Kori sat beside him like that.

"Aren't you supposed to be dancing in the stars or something?" he asked, and he didn't bother trying to fight the pull of sleep. It was just as welcomed as any other influence in his life.

Kori just kept her hand on his forehead until he fell asleep.

* * *

Dick hated living in at Wayne Manor.

Everyone walked on eggshells around him, and they treated him like he had spent years living in the wild instead of just a lower part of the same city. The only exception was Talia, who just avoided him completely. She always looked at him like he was planning to undermine her or something, but she never spared more than a few words for him. Dick preferred that over the way Alfred insisted on coddling him.

It began a week after he first arrived. Alfred continuously made Dick's favorite foods despite the fact that Talia or Damian usually hated one or all of them. This would seem normal if it wasn't Alfred. Their somewhat-butler-definite-family-member had always managed to cater to every single one of their needs seemingly effortlessly, and Dick wasn't naive enough to believe old age had curbed the man's talents. There was also the fact that Alfred no longer scolded him. There were days when he wouldn't let Dick get away with a stray hair, and now he didn't say a word if Dick looked like something even the cat wouldn't drag in. Dick had tried _hard_ to get Alfred to say anything other than, "Master Richard," to no avail. It was enough to make him scream.

There was also Bruce. Unlike Talia, Bruce didn't try to avoid him, but he didn't go out of his way to see Dick either. That was to be expected. Bruce treated everything like it could be solved if you just left it alone. He'd done the same after Dick's parents had died. He'd given him a room, food, and had expected him to work out any grief towards his parents on his own. Bruce wasn't so cold that he ignored Dick back then either. They talked, they played, they watched movies... There was just always this wall between them that Dick never knew how to climb over. He thought there were days when he'd come close, but Bruce would always just build it higher afterwards. There was so much about his adoptive father Dick still didn't know- he didn't even know why he'd been adopted by him- but Dick had always returned the favor.

He hadn't told Bruce about what he'd seen when his parents had been killed. He hadn't told Bruce about Barbara, and he hadn't told Bruce about how it had affected him when she died. He decided he certainly wouldn't tell him about his life outside of the manor, and there was no way he would ever tell him about Jason. He believed that, and yet he was still standing outside of Bruce's study with a hand poised to knock.

Dick had found himself like that several times. He was always on the verge of _something_ lately, and it killed him that he didn't know what. There were times when he found his guitar in his hands, his fingers strumming out an unfamiliar melody that his heart knew better than his head. There were words, too. They were damning, and they told him exactly what had begun his newfound inspiration. He refused to allow it. He would all but throw his guitar down and bury himself as deep as his blankets would allow before he was humming that stupid song as if it was haunting him.

Still, Dick didn't understand what kept driving him to Bruce's door. He couldn't imagine he would want to tell the man everything who had told him nothing. Every time he found himself just seconds away from knocking, he would pull away. It was so commonplace, Dick wasn't completely sure if Bruce didn't hear him out there. If he did, he never called him on it. It wasn't until the tenth- though it could have very well have been the one hundredth- time that Dick finally knocked.

The call to come in came fast enough that Dick knew he'd been found out long ago.


	13. Dying in Gotham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took me so long to update! Here's hoping I do better in the future! We're finally coming towards the end! Thanks so much to all those who have been patient with me!

Drake Media is the kind of hell that would give the Twilight Zone a run for its money. Tim decides this along with a few other things as he videos an interview between Clark Kent and a famous actress in her home. It was supposed to be one of those just-woke-up interviews, but it was obvious the entire thing had been staged, down to her expertly-styled bedhead. Tim didn't know why, but the actress reminded him of his mother.

Clark asked the actress something, and she gave a laugh so forced Tim was surprised the camera lens didn't crack. If he had to guess, it had to have been about her co-star. Some guy who came across as a jerk on and off screen. It would be impressive if it wasn't so repulsive. Tim didn't keep up with the glamour side of media. If he did, he'd never feel anything but numb. Granted, he was feeling pretty numb now. This was the fifth interview with a celebrity that was only interested in showing what was skin-deep. They had yet to come across anyone who was interested in anything but the next money-maker that came their way.

The interview ended, and Tim wanted to return to his apartment. It was cold and empty, but he would be damned if he didn't call it his. It was his laundry that piled around until he finally worked up the energy to fix it, and it was his dirty dishes that mocked him every time he walked into the kitchen. Dick always did the dishes. He said that it distracted him from the songs that got stuck in his head.

Tim would be lying if he said he didn't miss Dick. The other man had been telling the truth when he said that he would call. Every so often, the phone would ring. Tim would stare at it until it stopped, and then he would listen to the message that the caller had left. It was always the same:

_Hey, Tim. How are you?_

There was always a silence, as if Dick was hoping Tim would pick up and break the awkwardness that had formed between them. He never did.

_It's pretty dull over here. If you ever want to visit..._

Silence.

_How is everybody?_

And Tim knows that "everybody" really means "Jason." Tim wouldn't know even if he did answer the phone. Tim and Jason had barely been civil, just enough that there wasn't bloodshed whenever they were together. It was no secret that they didn't like each other, and it was pretty obvious that Dick was their mutual friend that forced them to have contact. Without Dick, they were just two people that lived in the same apartment building. Even if he did know, there was never going to be a time when Tim picked up that phone and answered him.

_I've gotten a little further in this song. It reminds me of... Well._

Dick laughs, and it sounds so broken that Tim almost convinces himself that he'll pick up on the next call. He never does.

That's all that the call ever is. Dick hangs up after he laughs, and Tim always sits in the dark wondering why everything in Gotham had to die.

Still, Tim wanted to return to his apartment. It was better than hanging out with Clark "Superman" Kent. Seriously, Tim wasn't convinced that the man wasn't some kind of alien from a distant planet. For as much as Tim had been running around after him, Clark had been active a good four hours earlier than him. The man didn't drink coffee. How could that even be plausible. Tim couldn't fathom it.

"You look dissatisfied."

Clark's voice reached him a few seconds too late, and all Tim could do was blink in response. He himself hadn't had _enough_ coffee for the day, and they still had a piece to cover on the grand opening of a new club near Crime Alley. For all the potential it had, Tim knew by now that it would be nothing but a fluff piece. Drake Media didn't have time to talk about Crime Alley itself, or the businesses that thrived there. Even Clark, for all his boy-scout-nature, couldn't defeat the willful ignorance that was his parents' company.

"Am I supposed to look excited?" Tim asked finally.

"Well, most guys would jump at the chance to meet Helena Bertinelli in person."

"If you had asked her about the connections her family has to the mafia in Star City, I might have," Tim retorted a little sharper than he intended. Clark didn't flinch.

"If she had admitted something like that on live tv, I'd be more worried about finding a dead pig in my bed than getting a great story," Clark joked.

Tim huffed, but otherwise let the subject drop.

* * *

It was late, and Dick could have probably spent his time better than laying in his bed. His fingers were itching to touch his guitar, but every time he did he was reminded of white streaks. His heart always picked up, and he could imagine words that matched the beat as easily as when he was younger.

When he was younger, there was always a song to be sang. There was always _something_ that he needed to say that came across better with the strum of a guitar. His voice always came out clearer when he was on stage. Everything made sense when he could write it down on paper.

Grimacing, Dick finally sat up. He had spent most of his time in his room every since his conversation with Bruce. That had been an experience he wasn't looking forward to ever having again. The memories were enough.

_Bruce sat in his favorite leather chair with a stack of papers measuring his patience. Even though he had told Dick to enter, he hadn't spoken since his ward had taken the seat in front of him. Seconds felt like hours, and it wasn't long before Dick was practically vibrating with anxious energy. He felt nine years old again. Bruce would make him sit still whenever he broke something and lied about it. His logic was that he couldn't break anything if he were sitting still.  
_

_"You aren't a child anymore."_

_Bruce's voice was as distant as the man ever was, and Dick doesn't know how he's supposed to interpret the sentence. He doesn't know if he was being scolded for his inability to sit still or because he still thought he had to. Still, the sentence opened them up to a real conversation that Dick was still uncertain he was ready to have._

_"You seem busy," Dick replied, and Bruce only gives a grunt as answer. Typical. "Can we talk for a minute?"_

_"Isn't that what we're doing?" Bruce asked, but he finally brought his gaze up to see the man his ward had become. Dick didn't know what he saw._

_"I think I fucked up a good thing."_

_"_ Language _," Bruce corrects, and Dick scoffs. He's heard Bruce use a lot of things a lot worse than a curse word. Still, he fixed it._

_"I think I_ messed _up a good thing."_

_Bruce nodded to show that he should continue._

_"Do you remember Barbara?"_

_Bruce nods again._

_"You were friends."_

_"We were more than friends," Dick laughed, and he wasn't sure how put together it sounded. He had been working on it, and he hoped he had improved at least a little. "Do you remember the night she... That we got shot at and she..."_

_"Died."_

_Bruce doesn't look apologetic when he finishes for him, and Dick supposed he didn't expect him to._

_"Yeah. Well, that fu-_ messed _me up pretty badly. I couldn't write, I couldn't sing... I couldn't_ think _without being haunted by her."_

_"Everything's in passed tense," Bruce noted, and Dick wasn't sure if it was to fill the silence or to make a point. The point was made._

_"When I moved out, I wasn't expecting anything. I met some great friends, and then I met..."_

_Dick couldn't believe he couldn't say Jason's name. The same pain that usually came with any thought of Barbara raced through him now like lightning, and the look on Bruce's face said that he didn't miss it._

_"You fell in love," Bruce supplied._

_"I fucked it up," Dick answered, and this time Bruce didn't stop him._

_"Fix it."_

_Dick looked at him. He didn't even know what Dick did. He didn't even know who Dick had- was- in love with. He didn't know how Dick had destroyed it so splendidly._

_"You aren't a child anymore," Bruce reminded him, and the point was made._

_"Fuck," Dick sighed._

_"_ Language _," Bruce corrected again._

_"I'm not a child anymore," Dick laughed._

He'd used big words, but he didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know  _how_ to fix it. Everything was so much easier when he could just put his pain and confusion into song. His words to Tim rang in his head, and he could have laughed.

Maybe he would have an epiphany.


	14. Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to ElenaGraysonNS and Possible15 for commenting! Also, thanks to everyone for the kudos and the support.
> 
> I am so sorry it took so long to update! Finales aren't always the end.

Gotham was alive with the kind of energy that could only be felt by those who spent most their time on its streets in the worst kind of ways. The city breathed the dreams of the starving artist and crushed them in the exhale. It was unlike any other place on Earth, and it was probably why all those who dreamed of becoming _something_ risked becoming nothing on its streets every night.

It was this city that had taken everything from Roy. It had lifted him as high as the stars, only to bring him down hard enough to shatter his world. Still, he wouldn't have traded that sky-high view for anything. Maybe that's what had him returning to Gotham's streets again, almost an entire year later. Maybe it was because he knew that his friends were idiots, and if he left them alone for too long they'd destroy themselves. Granted, he hadn't done such a bang up job of taking care of himself. If his hair was too long or his eyes too hollow, it all just helped him to fit in with the other citizens of Gotham. No one bothered to even glance in his direction now.

Roy could feel the energy that came from Gotham. It pulsed through his veins and pushed his feet forward even when a part of him told him to turn back. The bus station was still running. It wouldn't be anything to just hop back onto a bus and ride it to anywhere but there. The rest of him called him a coward for even thinking about it. He wasn't just there to make sure his friends were okay. He was there to make sure he was okay, too.

The first month, he tried not to think about her. He wouldn't mention her name, and he pretended that those months in Gotham had never happened. It didn't work. Every time he looked at the sky, he thought of Kori. There had been so many times he thought maybe he'd seen her, only to realize it was someone else. He had run himself into the ground, and even worse, into a bottle. He lost himself to everything but the grief that wanted to swallow him whole. Then about a week ago, when he was so drunk could barely remember his own name, he said her name.

He didn't know why. There was no one there to hear it, and it wasn't like he could see her. He wished he could. He wished she would haunt him, just so he could see her smile at him one more time. That was why he drank. He thought maybe he would get drunk enough to at least hallucinate. He was never so lucky. He didn't know why he said her name, but it had been the broken levy. He had broken down that day, and he had recently started building himself into something resembling the old Roy. He liked to think he was a little better than before he met Kori, but he couldn't be sure. He was certain that anything good about him died along with her. If she was a star now, he liked to believed that her goodness was shining down on him every night.

So he'd come back to Gotham- to where it all began. He walked its streets without much of a purpose. He'd sold the apartment he'd shared with Kori. It was impossible to return after what had happened, and he didn't want to see what its new tenants had decided to change. He wanted keep it in his memory exactly as it had been. He did go to the alley where they had first met. It was deserted, and that disappointed him. He had hoped some stray kid might have found refuge in a place that had been his salvation. He also wished the punks that had jumped him all those months ago were still there. He didn't know what he would do, but he felt like he should do _something_. They were probably locked up somewhere or dead. That thought was enough to bring a small smile to his face as he made his way to the payphone outside of Tim's apartment. Roy had his own phone, but some things had to become tradition.

The phone rang out twice before Roy huffed and began a voicemail. In the past, Tim or Dick at least attempted to answer the phone.

"Timothy, dearest? It is freezing out here, and I don't have a-"

" _Roy_?"

Tim's voice sounded muffled, and Roy realized too late that he must have been asleep. It was such a rare and foreign thing, Roy hadn't even known it a possibility. The surprise was enough to still his tongue for a fraction of a moment.

"This is Roy, right?" Tim continued in the silence.

"Hey, Tim," Roy finally replied, a drop of amusement in his voice. "Can you toss me the keys? It's cold. If you didn't know."

"You're _outside_?"

"Tim."

"It's..." There was a pause as if Tim tried to look at the time. "It's pretty late, and you're outside the apartment?" He sounded incredulous.

"Well, right now I'm freezing my ass off, but yes. In a locational sense, I'm outside. Now, will you let me in?"

It wasn't all that cold. For Gotham, it had been a pretty tame winter, but Roy figured it would hurry Tim up to think that it was.

Just like he thought, it was less than a minute before Tim was poking his head outside the window. He climbed onto the fire escape, a shadow of a smile lighting up his face.

"Don't get mugged this time!" he called down before tossing Roy the keys. "There's a surprise when you make it up!"

Roy stole another glance into the alley, and he swore he saw a flash of red that was the same shade of Kori's hair. Maybe she was haunting him after all.

* * *

 

The surprised turned out to be Dick Grayson, lounging on the couch with his same beat-up guitar and almost-genuine smile. He looked a shade better than when he left- certainly better fed- but overall, he was still the Dick Grayson that Roy had grown to tolerate and somewhat care for.

"At the fear of sounding like an adolescent teen at a slumber party, I need some details spilled immediately," Roy stated, taking a seat on the couch. Dick shifted enough to make room for him, but he didn't put up his guitar. That was certainly something new.

"Where do you want us to start?" Dick laughed, and it was impressively real.

Dick seemed _better_ , something that none of them thought would ever be possible when he left for the manor after Kori's funeral. Roy supposed he did, too, and Tim looked... Well, Tim was alive. That's all they really hoped for from their youngest companion. They were never really certain if Tim was _happy_ \- especially with all the twists and turns in his own life- but he was surrounded by paper and his germy pencil was successfully chewed into something probably unusable. Those were usually the signs that he was at least fine.

"I quit Drake Media," Tim spoke up from around said chewed pencil.

Roy raised a curious brow, but Tim didn't look up from the notes he was occasionally marking on.

"My parents... Well, I'm not expecting a Christmas card this year. Or the next ten."

Oddly, this brought a smile to Tim's face, and Roy and Dick smiled along with him.

"Did you get disowned, too, Boy Wonder?" Roy asked, and Dick strummed a gentle chord before responding.

"Definitely not disowned. I brought enough of Alfred's cucumber sandwiches to feed us for- well, technically probably a couple of days. He said they'll go bad after that."

"You don't even eat cucumber sandwiches," Tim stated, and Dick gave a sound of mock hurt.

"It's the thought that counts. Where's your Christmas spirit, Timmy?"

"Shriveled up with that pathetic Christmas tree you brought in."

Roy noticed the tree sitting in the corner.

Unlike Dick and Tim, Roy had never grown up in a mansion. Even after getting close to Oliver Queen, he had spent his Christmases usually down in a soup kitchen- sometimes to volunteer, usually not. He was used to cheap decorations. He was used to cheap gifts and well-meaning promises for the New Year. He hadn't expected anything from Christmas since he was four and had been obsessed with the red Power Ranger. When all he had been given was an orange and his first sip of brandy, he learned to get used to a lot of things. Their tree, though? That was a new one.

It was a plastic thing, maybe three feet tall, and it was obviously missing some branches. It only had three ornaments, and their tree-topper was a poorly-made origami star made from newspaper.

"I knew times were hard, but-"

"- _I couldn't find anything else_ ," Dick interrupted indignantly. "Tim didn't answer the phone until Christmas Eve, and have _you_ ever tried to find a Christmas tree in Gotham on Christmas Eve?"

Roy laughed in response.

"So, what about you?" Tim asked, finally looking away from whatever he was working on.

"What about me?" Roy asked, and he'd be lying if he said that there wasn't a touch of defensiveness in his tone.

"You're in new clothes, you look like you haven't missed a meal in awhile, and you don't look like your entire world has come crashing down on you," Dick supplied helpfully.

Tim stared at him as if he'd grown another head, but Roy nodded thoughtfully.

"I've been getting...help. The clothes are from Kori though."

This time, Dick shared Tim's look as they stared down their old roommate. To their response, Roy again nodded.

"I'm not crazy, okay? Or if I am, I'm pretty functional. I just mean that it's because of Kori that I'm doing so well. I hacked into the ATM near the lot where Steph had her protest. Now to get cash, all you have to do is punch in the master pin K-O-R-I."

"That's _illegal_ ," Tim gaped.

"That's _brilliant_ ," Dick laughed.

"That could be the title of my future memoir. You gonna write it for me, Tim?"

"I'm not that kind of writer," he replied when he finally regained his composure. "There's no way they can trace that back to here, can they?"

"Have you spoke to Jason since you got back?" Roy replied instead, and the groan Tim released was in no way related to Dick's love life.

Dick was quiet for a long time, and so it was Tim who spoke up.

"We don't know where he is."

Roy let that soak in, and a part of him wondered if that was Gotham's doing or Jason's. People went missing all the time in Gotham. Some just became wrapped up in another person, some became wrapped up by another person. Sometimes in a tasteful rug that somehow found its way in the dump before any evidence could be found to explain how the person got that way. Roy had had a bad experience with the latter, and he had also learned that it was just better to leave the apartment bare. There were also times when people simply disappeared, and there was never a trace to lead to where they could have gone. He hoped Jason didn't fall into any of those categories. Regardless, there wasn't much they could do.

Instead, they sat around and talked about anything else as Christmas settled around them.


End file.
